


What a Lovely Day

by MostFacinorous



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Distrust, Fury Road AU, Gen, Motorcycles, Post-Apocalypse, Searching for Bucky, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fury Road AU that you didn't know you wanted. </p><p>The world is dead. So many people are. Steve is out looking for the one he hopes isn't... but there's been no word of Bucky since before the fall. And for a symbol of hope, Steve has precious little of his own. </p><p>But the endless wasteland hides secrets, dangers, and-- just maybe-- salvation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks forever to Lena for brainstorming through this with me, and for being a great source of inspiration in general. 
> 
> Ratings, characters, warnings, and pairings are subject to change as the story goes on, so keep an eye on the tags.

Humans were incredible things. They always had been. Exposed to pain constantly for long enough, they could become used to it, accepting of it, to the point where they forgot what it was like to not be in pain. The same could be said of the hum and the vibrations of the bike beneath him. 

He knew that once, back when he’d first stumbled across this old Indian, it had seemed too loud, too rough. Now, though, he forgot about it, forgot that he’d known no noise other than it and the occasional crunch of his own footsteps over the crust of the dirt. Forgot that, once, he had been able to get from one place to the next within a single afternoon, on real roads, gravel roads, that didn’t kick up dust and coat his throat. 

He deserved the discomfort though, because of what he couldn’t forget. Because he knew that he was responsible for this. 

Humans were incredible things. But even with as modified as he was, as strong as the good doctor and Stark could make him, there were a few pains that he could never quite come to terms with. Not the physical ones. But the Misery. The guilt. 

He was meant to save people, to inspire hope. Once, he had tried to let himself be that. Tried to give himself that, to make it his mission… now he stayed as far from people as possible. The hope in their eyes felt like knives, and not seeing it there felt like failure. 

So he was left with himself, his thoughts, his guilt, and the rattle of his bike.

And this wretched heat that made his back stick to the back of his own shirt.

He wasn’t driving aimlessly, though. There had to be one person who didn’t see him as the statue without a pedestal. He had to have survived. That was what Bucky did, was survive. He’d lived through ice, and years, electricity being poured into his brain. Lived through abuse and assignments and assassinations... surely he lived through some sand, some heat. 

He was out there, somewhere, wandering the great waste, and every gleaming light on the horizon made Steve’s mouth firm a bit. He hunkered down against the bike, tucking his face behind his shield, which he’d mounted at the front-- no longer bright colors, now just a dust collector, stripped of all its grandeur. Like the Earth. 

  
  


Like him.

  
  


He followed the map that Sam had given him, last time he’d checked in. It was a twelve day ride to the pool, and it wasn’t much-- likely would be dried up before the year was out. It was a lake as recently as a year ago, but at least it was still drinkable for now. More than could be said for most water outside of Starktown. 

There was only a small camp, the last time they had checked the area. Just the two people there, Pietro and Wanda, a brother and sister-- twins-- who wouldn’t come back to Starktown when they offered them the chance. They had reasons not to want to be around Stark, from his days of warmongering. 

They were wary, didn’t trust that he wouldn’t fall back into old habits, and he couldn’t say he blamed them. Even without access to the booze that had been his weakness, or maybe because of it, Tony had holed himself up, tucked himself away. He tinkered with whatever was brought to him, looking for a way of fixing things. But Steve knew better; knew it wouldn’t be possible.

You don’t destroy something this far, raze it to the ground and deeper, and still have a chance of fixing it. They weren’t going to be able to go back. All you could do was hold on tight to what you had left, reclaim what you could from before, and go forward. 

He was just looking for that something to hold onto. It couldn’t be too much to ask for. Bucky was strong, solid. Like him. He had to have survived. Had to. 

He was all he had left. 

He rode on, ten days into his trip eastwards. He didn’t pass much. Shelters, such as still existed, were mostly haphazard. The sandstorms that tore through hit with the force of hurricanes and tornadoes had taken out everything permanent, and people wore their homes on their backs, as often as not. Many had formed into camps, tiny pockets of civilization, but he was steering clear of those for now. He made rounds to them, too, looking for news of a man with a metal arm, in search of the faintest whisper of hope. But he was beginning to think he had as good a chance of finding it as he had of a forest suddenly springing out of the drifts, being left by the storm clouds that he could see, a week’s ride east of him, he thought. But he kept an eye on it. 

He could only hope one such storm hadn’t been through since their last trip this way. He was running low on water as it was-- only an inch or so left in his canteen, and it would be a long trip back without it. He would probably make it, if he had to, where others wouldn’t, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. And he wanted to stay at the pool until the storm died off, and he could ride further out. The map broke off a five day ride from there, and if he filled the canteen all the way and hydrated before he left, he could go at least ten before he had to turn back. Then he would strike out in a different direction, fan back and forth… mapping as he went. And if he found more water, he could go further still. 

Maybe he just hadn’t pushed far enough yet. Maybe Bucky was just beyond the horizon, safe and waiting… and as far as mapping went, he was the only one willing to volunteer for the job. No one else wanted to leave the relative safety of Starktown. Most people valued their lives more than that.

Pepper didn’t want him to go, really. He could see the expression on her face each time he did, her lips pressed thin and her eyes swimming with worry. But she always made sure there was gas for him when he did. Jane, too, when he made it that far north. 

He was due to return. Maybe he’d swing by New New Mexico (Darcy’s choice of name) on his way back. Fanning out south first, then straight east, then northwards, and every radial in between that he thought he should. 

Hard to plan that far ahead, though. 

He broke down the camp he’d set up and pushed onwards, only the harsh cold of the nights out on the exposed flats and dunes breaking up the ride. 

On the twelfth day, probably mid afternoon, he finally hit on the pool. 

  
  


Neither of the Maximoffs was in sight. He dismounted from the bike, ignoring the water that glistened promisingly under the sun. He pulled the shield off and strapped it to his arm, the soft jingle of the buckle the only sound aside from his breathing and the wind. 

Frowning, concerned, but already trying to harden himself for what he might find, he checked their lean-to, glad not to find bodies, bones, or blood stains, though he knew as well as the next person that that wasn’t much comfort. 

And, with precious little other option, he crouched down beside the water and started the canteen filling for the next leg of his journey, then filled his shield, lifting that to his mouth so that he didn’t have to stretch out flat on the ground. This way, he could keep his head up, keep his eye on the horizon. 

This way, he wasn’t surprised when faint blue lines appeared and, a moment later, so did the Maximoffs. 

He stood regretfully, tipping the water back into the pond;  _ waste not. _ He didn’t think it would be a fight, but loyalties could change. They were more fluid than anything else out here, for the most part. He replaced his shield and readied himself while Pietro sat his sister down from where he’d carried her.

“ We couldn’t know who it was.” Wanda explained with an apologetic shrug. 

“ I wasn’t sure if I’d still be welcome here.” Steve said quietly, words sober. The small smile on her face died away. 

“ You are. Of course you are.” Pietro nodded along with his sister’s words. This was another reason that he was the one to come out on exploratory runs. The twins weren’t so friendly with very many people. 

“ You will stay here again?” Pietro asked, and it was obvious how he craved the company. They both did. They had one another, but this kind of isolation still wore on them. Would wear on anyone. 

“ I’m not the best company, but I did manage to bag a couple of birds on my way in. If you can start a fire, we can eat well tonight. And I may stay as much as a couple of days, if you’ll have me.” 

The twins traded a look that could only be called delighted. 

“ Our water level has stayed even. I think there must be a spring beneath us.” Pietro told him proudly. Steve gave him a smile at that; it was good news. But his teeth felt sharp against the stretched edges of his mouth, and he let the expression fall away when he turned to pull the crows out of the bag tied to the rear of his bike, where he’d put them for safe keeping.

They were so eager for his approval, he could sense it in the way they glanced at him when they prepared the fire, when Pietro helped him unpack and when Wanda plucked the carcasses. There was a desperation to it, and he tried his best to fill the role they wanted him to play. 

“ You didn’t damage a single feather.” He praised. And, “Looks like you’ve been gaining some muscle since the last time I saw you. That tent went up twice as fast this time.” And, “Smells great. I can’t wait to taste it-- I always miss your cooking when I leave.”  But it was an uncomfortable role, because they, like everyone else, seemed to sponge hope and comfort from him. And it stung, watching them get it, when he had none for himself.

But that didn’t matter. He wasn’t Captain America any longer. There wasn’t even an America any more. And he was on his own, just trying to survive. Just like everyone else.

At last, they sat down to eat and finally he could ask what he had wanted to since arriving. 

“ So, you get many people coming through here?” It was good for him to know about all of them, even if his interest lay only in one.

“ We saw your friend from before.” Pietro told him, sounding glad to be helpful. He felt a jolt of shock, of hope, and tamped it down carefully. 

“ Which friend?” He asked. 

“ The Widow.” Wanda replied, and Steve leaned forward; he hadn’t known whether or not Natasha had survived. She was one of the more breakable of the Avengers… he hadn’t been hopeful. 

“ Did you tell her about Starktown? Give her directions, like we talked about?” He asked, wondering why she would have decided not to come. 

“ She was not alone.” Wanda said quietly, her tone darkening, and Steve’s brow furrowed. 

“ She rode in on a great green beast. It was likely the one from before, though he never became the man again. He came with her, and together they carried off many gallons of water.” Pietro reported on it the way he had taught him, and he gave him a small appreciative smile, even as his concern deepened. 

“ We stayed hidden.” Wanda finished. 

It felt odd, sitting across from them, with their voices striking from two different sides. They were a team, though, and the message came across. 

“ It sounds like that was the smart thing to do,” He reassured them, though he might have wished they had done otherwise. “Did you see where they went? What direction they headed out in?”

Wanda pointed East and South. 

“ I sent my mind to follow them, but they left my range. I do not know how far away they are, or how they came to know of this place. Only that they have not returned.” 

“ When was this?” He asked next, considering the bird before him. 

The storms were directly east, and in the south the clouds of dust seemed thinner. He may be able to ride through it, or at least head in that direction first, as he’d half-way planned. 

“ A month. Perhaps less.” Pietro said, squinting up at the moon to check his guess against it. 

If it had been that long, he could afford to stop for a night. He had been pushing himself hard to get this far. And he needed to keep going, so that he could live long enough to find Bucky. Or find out what had happened to him. 

“ Have you seen any others?” He asked. 

“ Mm.” Pietro hummed in the affirmative. “War dogs. Red ones.” 

Steve frowned. 

The war dogs painted themselves the color of the sand, to blend in and attack by surprise. But they also carved out the hollows of their cheeks and eyes, to inspire fear. They were those who delighted in this new wild, the sort of folk that Starktown existed to keep people safe from.

Red war dogs was something new. He was pretty sure he didn’t like it.

“ Travel in a pack, like the others?” He asked, making careful note to give his own report with, later. 

“ Six of them.” Wanda told him frankly. “And… they had something with them. Something else. An animal maybe. In a box. It screamed-- they shook the container and they set sticks on fire and poked them into the cage until it stopped howling. And then it…” She broke off, clearly uncomfortable. 

“ It  _ cried _ .” Pietro finished for her, wrapping an arm around her, but he looked just as uneasy. “It was also very strong. Strong enough that it broke one of the walls of its cage, and it took four of the dogs to keep it in. We never saw what it was, but it didn’t seem possible that it could be human. Not-- not and be that strong, not and sound like that.” He shook his head. 

“ Probably dead now. Probably they ate it. At least it is out of its misery.” 

Steve nodded, but he couldn’t help but wonder. 

“ Where did they go? What kind of transport did they have, what kind of clothes… and weapons?”

“ They had… similar to jeeps, but with treads like tanks. Moved pretty fast, fifty-five, sixty miles an hour easily. Two on bikes, two jeeps. One had the cage on the back. The other had some kind of-- like a truck bed. It had a tank on-- water went into it. And they were hauling something else, too. No idea what. But they each had guns, and guns mounted to the jeeps. The motorcycles had flame throwers.” 

“ They went North and East-- directly into the storm. And they all wore bands around their arms. Red skulls and tentacles on them.” Her voice was heavy with meaning and she stared at him, well aware that he knew the significance of such a symbol.

“ HYDRA.” Steve said softly, shocked, though he knew he shouldn’t be. Of course, with all the horrible things that had happened, of  _ course _ HYDRA had survived the death of the world. And of course they were well provisioned. And the animal--

Bucky was strong. And Bucky had so very few words, when he’d seen him last. It was too easy to imagine his eyes, feral as they had been, and how his voice might match them, at times. He shuddered. 

“ How long?” He asked. Something in his voice must have given away his distress. The twins exchanged a look. “How long?” He demanded again, words harsher this time.

“ Two days.” Pietro said finally. “But you aren’t going after them, are you? You are outmatched, and you’ve no idea how many there may be on the other side of that-- if you even made it through.” He gestured at the wall of the storm, ever present on the edge of their vision. 

Steve paused, trying to consider, trying to make the smart decision. It was difficult, though, when everything in him said to ride straight into the storm and go after the first potential lead he had. 

Then again, if it was HYDRA… 

“No.” He decided aloud. “First I’ll go after Natasha and the Hulk. See if they know anything about them, see if they’ll come with me. And maybe by then the storm will have died down a bit.”

It seemed a good plan. 

Still, the twins seemed concerned. 

Their meal was finished quietly, and by the time they crawled into their respective sleeping shelters, the conversation had run as dry as the world around them. 

He slept more deeply than he had on previous nights, comfortable in the knowledge that Wanda’s perimeter shields would let them know if anyone or anything ventured too close in the night. 

His dreams were steeped in blood and fire. 

  
  


_ Red. The color was everywhere. The sand was red and the sky was brown, the color of dried blood, and there was an army of skulls, all red, all grinning, as Bucky, caged and bound, whimpered and cried out for Steve to help him.  _

_ He was enveloped by a wall of dust, a storm, and Steve tried to ride in after them, but was tossed down-- only he didn’t land on the dirt of the floor. He was falling, crashing, and suddenly there was water-- but not water. A sea of blood.  _

_ The blood of everyone he was supposed to have saved.  _

_ The blood of everyone he had failed.  _

_ And he was drowning in it. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t stop sinking, and he couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t claw his way through it. It was so thick and pressing down on him-- he couldn’t--  _

  
  


The sun was already up when he woke, and the sweat was already beading on his body. He left his shirt off when he crawled out of the tent, shield in hand so that he could soak the fabric without letting his sweat get into the water supply. 

He sponged off, grateful for the way his wadded up shirt released the water and left streaks in the grime, glad of the drips carving pale stripes through the dust that coated him. 

He didn’t know the last time he’d felt clean. Maybe it had been years. Before the earth died. Maybe even further back-- before the ice. Before the fire. Before the scientists turned him into what he was now. 

It had been a very long time. 

He felt eyes on him and turned. Wanda and Pietro were both watching him from the shade of their little hut, their faces unalike, but the hunger in their eyes damn near identical. 

He cut his sponge bath short, pretending he hadn’t noticed, and pulled the shirt on over his head, shivering when the wet fabric slid across his skin. He packed up in silence, always easier to tear down than to set up-- and he wondered if that was true for everyone, or if there was some sort of relief that was specific to him-- some kind of broken aspect to his person that craved the ability to leave, to get away from other humans. Either way, he’d barely been awake for half an hour before he was ready to pull out.

“ I’m headed out after Natasha today. I’ll be back in no more than ten, eleven, maybe twelve days at the very most. If I’m not, Pietro, you know the drill. Let Sam or Pepper know.” 

Pietro raised his hand into a sardonic little salute. 

“Be careful.” Wanda told him. “We’ve not strayed far in that direction, but the ground becomes rocky, and there will be blind areas where you cannot see. Be wary, and be safe.”

He nodded his thanks and tied his scarf back around his neck, the shield snapping into place with a final sounding clunk. 

It was always hard to tell with her if she was prophesying or just being friendly. Either way, it was good advice, and he meant to heed it. 

“Twelve days.” He repeated, and revved the engine back to life. The roar was still loud, even after talking and the sounds of life. 

As he left, he wasn’t sure whether it was the sun or the twins’ eyes boring into his back. Either way, he knew this was shaping up to be a much more eventful scouting mission than many of his previous ones had been. 

  
  


_ Good. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out [Lena7142](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena7142)'s amazing art for this series [ on her tumblr](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/post/120394757249/humans-were-incredible-things-they-always-had)!


	2. Two

Wanda was right. The ground grew rocky, and soon there were mountains, the dunes turning firmer. His wheels spun rocks out behind him, and the sound of shifting stones added to the constant humming rattling roar, keeping him company. Somehow the closeness of the rocks made the roar more unbearable-- less space, he thought, meant less room for the sound to disperse. It seemed instead to echo back to him, and he found himself starting to hate it. 

He wasn’t going to be able to sneak up on them, but that was fine. He didn’t really want to take the Hulk by surprise. 

Of course, he should have known better. This was Natasha, after all.

She dropped down on him in a blind valley between two rocky crags, and if not for his better than human response time, she may well have killed him before he knew what was going on. As it was, the bike went skidding one way, and they the other. They rolled and she had a blade pressed to his throat and her teeth bared, and he had a hand wrapped around her wrist before they realized who, exactly, they were fighting. 

She sat up and scrambled backwards a few feet, stopping to watch him warily. Her stance didn’t relax fully, though, and she didn’t put her weapon away, he noted. 

It made him ache a bit in his chest. They’d been friends, teammates. He’d thought they were… closer than this, at least. But he supposed the end of the world did change some things. 

“Natasha. Nat.” He greeted. 

“ Steve Rogers.” her lips crooked upwards, and he remembered the last time he’d seen that expression on her face. They’d both been cleaner, then, and she’d been closer, her eyes taking some sort of information from his own while they shared a drink. 

No one drank alcohol any more, though. No one could afford to dehydrate themselves. Not these days, and not out here, especially. She seemed healthy, though. Her face was thinner than he remembered, but that wasn’t all that surprising, and her hair had been cropped short-- easier to maintain, cleaner, cooler. Practical. Her clothes were about on par with everyone else he knew. A bit of the old world, scraps of the new one.

“ You’re a sight for sore eyes.” She told him, and he cracked half a smile.

“ You’re one to talk. We thought you were--” He broke off, because he didn’t like to say it. Not with as real as it was, all around them.

“ We?” She asked, and he felt bad. He should have led with that, maybe. 

“ We. Uh, there’re two towns at this point, there’s New New Mexico, to the north, and Starktown to the south. You’re more than welcome at either, and I’d be happy to take you to them, if you want. Most everyone-- Here. Let me turn off my bike, and we can catch up.” He gestured at where it was still on the ground, and she looked at it and then back, her eyes maybe more wary than they were. 

“ That’s not such a great idea.” She said. 

Immediately, he was on guard. 

“ Why? What’s-- are you not safe?” He should have asked first. 

“ _ I’m _ perfectly fine. You, on the other hand…” She started, but then was interrupted by a less than jolly green giant barreling towards them from around the corner created by an arch in the rocks. 

“ Bruce.” Steve’s eyes widened. 

“ Whatever else you do, I’d advise you not call him that. Let me handle it-- you just stand there and be quiet, and if I tell you to-- get on your bike, turn around, and don’t look back.” 

She spoke quickly, and he realized she wasn’t sure what The Hulk was going to do, how he might react when he got there. It wasn’t the most reassuring of realizations, but he knew that she needed him to trust her in this. 

And after all, what did he have to lose?

Once Steve had nodded to show he’d heard her, she turned his back to him and raised her arm-- a clear sign telling The Hulk to stop.

It was-- always had been, but still was-- amazing, the way The Hulk listened to her. The sight of this woman, small even next to him, let alone a towering mass of muscle like The Hulk, calmly giving orders and making demands… she was impressive. 

Less impressive was The Hulk’s stopping distance. He started dragging his feet a good hundred yards back, but only actually ceased to move forward a dozen feet from Nat’s hand. 

She walked towards him, hand still outstretched. But there was something more gentle about the gesture now, less commanding. 

“ Sun’s getting real low.” She said, her voice loud enough to be heard-- and loud enough that Steve heard the quiver in it. 

He watched as The Hulk realized what was happening, looking back and forth between her hand and her face and then to Steve, before he tossed his head and snorted, then gathered himself and roared at her. 

“ I know, I know-- it’s been a while.” She still spoke soothingly. “But this isn’t the usual deal. That’s Steve over there, you remember Steve? He’s not going to hurt you. And he won’t hurt me. He’s alone. And he just wants to talk. You wanna talk to Steve?” She sounded like she was coaxing a child. She advanced on The Hulk as she spoke, and he shook his head again and backed up a few steps. 

Steve frowned, hoping against hope that this still worked, as it had before. 

“ What’sa matter, Big Guy? Not feeling sleepy?” She sounded sad, he realized, and he didn’t know if it was real or not. She’d always been so good at feeling only what the situation demanded of her. He wondered if The Hulk could tell the difference. 

He roared again, and Steve flinched. 

The Hulk started forward in response, looking like he might charge right past Natasha to attack Steve, but then he stopped and tilted his head to the side. 

“ That’s right, it’s Steve. You remember Steve-- Captain America, remember? It’s alright, myshka, you can let go, if you want. I’ll be here, I’ll keep you safe.” 

Steve felt almost as though he was intruding on something private.

The Hulk snorted again, almost as if he agreed, shook his head apologetically, turned tail, and ran off the way he’d come. 

Steve watched as Natasha’s shoulders drooped, and, to give her some privacy, he turned the bike’s motor off and picked it back up. By the time he’d done that, she was ready to turn back and face him. He hesitated, hands still on the handlebars of the bike. 

“ You still feel like catching up?” She asked, her voice much lighter than it should be, all things considered. Forcedly casual. It made him uneasy, but he knew this was the way of it. It was rough everywhere, for everyone, now. 

“ Is that okay?” He asked, eyes moving to where Banner-- Where the Hulk had run off. 

“ He’ll be close by. But I don’t think he’ll get too near. He hasn’t…” Her lips quirked, “He hasn’t been himself since it went downhill. Or… shortly after that, he’d turn back to Bruce less and less. Now…” She shrugged. “I’ve tried to coax him into it a few times. Mileage varies.”

Steve shook his head sadly. 

“ You want to hop on? You can give me directions; I assume you have a camp around here somewhere-- or at least that you don’t want to have a talk in the same canyon that you just ambushed me.”

“ Two for two. But you better let me drive.” She told him, taking hold of the handlebars. 

It was a test of his trust, he knew, but not a very good one; she’d already stopped attacking him, already stood between him and a charging Hulk. And she had already agreed to take him back to their camp. So what was left? His trusting her not to send them both off a cliff? 

Yeah. He could do that. 

He cleared off the rear seat, strapping his tent bag further back over the wheel. 

“ All yours,” He told her and she slung her leg up and over with ease and grace-- she might have lost everything she’d ever owned, but not her limberness. 

He climbed up behind her, and almost before his feet hit the pegs, they were off down the way, turning sharply at the arch and riding back and forth along a switch back foot path that led almost straight up. 

If he was more worried about dying, he’d have held tighter, maybe felt concerned. Instead, all he felt was a distant interest. The view was good up here. He could see where the storm was, sitting angrily on the horizon and creeping ever closer. 

He didn’t try talking to her over the roar of the engine. Didn’t want to shout, and didn’t want to distract her.

So it was silent between them until she hit the kill switch and parked the bike next to what looked like a cone, sticking out of the top of the mountain. 

“ Sand runs off of it, when the wind brings it in.” She explained. “You have food? I have some, but…” She looked hopeful. “I’ll be honest, I was hoping to take whatever you had, before I knew you were you.”

Steve smiled one of his wan smiles. 

“ Have some jars of chili. Enough for us at least… I dunno about Hulk.” He contrived to look apologetic, while simultaneously looking around for said Hulk. 

“ It’s fine. He’ll find his own. I’d actually be surprised if we don’t wake up to half of a goat or horse or something on the doorstep.” She gestured to the front of the cone.

Steve nodded and fetched the jars, while Natasha produced an actual cast iron skillet. 

She got the fire going, and he sat nearby… not talking. Just watching her. Observing. 

She favored her right leg. He hadn’t noticed before-- no doubt adrenaline had pushed her to ignore it, but there was as definite hitch in her steps. He wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure if he was more afraid that he’d hurt her… or that at some point The Hulk had. 

She pulled her scarf up in the back, creating a hood that would keep the back of her neck from getting any more sun, while it worked on going down behind them. 

He’d long since stopped worrying about it. It wasn’t like he could get skin cancer, and any sunburn he got was gone the next time he woke. It wasn’t worth the extra bother. But it was reassuring to see that she had adapted, that small gestures like that were second nature to her, now. She’d always adapted, though. Always been good at that. 

“ So. Towns, you said?” she asked, to start the conversation back up. 

He nodded. 

“ Two of ours-- Starktown, which has water, all the time. Tony’s got it coming up from deep in the earth, plenty to go around, enough to grow things, some food, and even enough to generate some energy, keep some very basics going. Closest thing I’ve seen to health care exists in Starktown.” He couldn’t help but sound proud. His friends had done a good job of rebuilding. 

“ And Tony’s king of the castle?” She asked, the skepticism clear in her voice.

Steve snorted, the sound causing her to smile in a way that seemed surprisingly honest for her face.

“ No. Pepper runs things. Tony… retreats. He doesn’t talk to people much. Feels guilty, I think.” He shrugged, careful not to say how he agreed; how he felt the same. 

“ I imagine there are a lot of people who’d be willing to live by any rules they could cook up, as long as they could live there.” Natasha sounded hesitant, wary, still, and it made Steve’s heart clench. 

She should go back there, should live with them, be part of the group again. She and Bruce both, if they could get through to him. But he knew he couldn’t push her on it. He couldn’t be that much of a hypocrite. 

“ There are around a thousand, maybe. I don’t know exact numbers. It’s a little spread out. But there’s not much in the way of rules. Don’t kill, don’t steal, and anything you can’t make use of, you bring to the center of the city. Tony’s got a program where folks bring him scraps to build stuff with, and they get food or water or clothes or what have you in return. Sam and Rhodey scout sometimes, do a lot of scavenging from the air. They’re some of the best people to bring back fresh meat, because of it. Starktown has a little herd of sheep and goats, thanks to them. But when they’re around, they work as the head of the peace chapter. Less like cops and more like mediators. Keeps things quiet. Calm.”

“ Huh.” She said. Then, “What about the other town?” 

The fire was finally high enough, burning hot enough, so he passed over the two mason jars-- didn’t have to say how precious they were, how valuable. Being able to seal anything, to store anything, was a miracle.

“ New New Mexico is… it’s weird.” He made a face and she laughed. “Jane’s there, and she’s… they worship her. Not that she encourages it,” he hastened to add, seeing the way that Natasha’s face went dark. “She’s working on building a means of contacting Thor. She figured they don’t know what happened yet. If they did, she thinks Asgard would be here instantly. And she thinks they could help. Or at least if they can’t, they could take us somewhere else. Somewhere that isn’t dead.” He shrugged, not certain what he believed.

“ But other people, all they hear is that she talks to the gods. They remember her on the news with Thor, so she’s… it’d be almost funny if it didn’t seem like it could go very wrong, very quickly. But she needs the manpower. They take turns, keeping trundles turning, generating electricity that way, when she’s ready to test it out. They’re up north-- sort of west of here. They’ve got a river that runs through-- summer it dwindles, but there’s stuff that’s below ground, and in the winter it’s nice and full. They make do. Not as organized… it’s like a-- Sam calls it a hippie commune.” He waited a second to see if that made her smile, too, or if that was something only funny to Sam. 

He’d missed the hippies before, and now they just made him uneasy. 

“ The people there have this weird fascination with dying. They swear those who do will go to Valhalla. I don’t-- I don’t get up that way often, and when I do, I don’t stay long.”

“ And the two towns, they get along okay?” She was looking for the other shoe to drop, for what he wasn’t saying. She was used to having her hopes crushed, too. 

“ Not exactly. They aren’t at war or anything, but there’s some friction-- Jane reached out to Tony once about setting up some kind of generator for her experiments, but he refused. Then when it came back what she was trying to do, he started bugging her about trying to get access to it, to see what she was doing. But after the refusal, someone got the idea that he might try and sabotage the machine she’s working on. I don’t know if he would or not; Tony’s… well he’s pretty bad off these days. Not easy to get along with, less easy than before, even.” 

It felt like the most Steve had spoken in a year, and suddenly he felt self conscious. 

“ No one is fighting or anything, though, if that’s what you’re worried about. Trade’s open and pretty easy between them.”

“ And where do you live?” Natasha asked, resting her chin in one hand while she stirred the pot with her other. 

He hesitated. 

“ I go between. And out on scouting missions. I-- I make the maps.” He found himself tripping over the words, floundering, and he was embarrassed by it. 

“ Hm.” Was all she offered, but then she shrugged. “You have your own spoon I assume?” 

They ate from the pot together, and he was careful not to eat more than his share. It would be easy for him to; his metabolism was fast, and he could eat endlessly. But he didn’t know how long it had been since she’d had a proper meal. 

“ So what’s next for you?” She asked between bites. 

He wanted to answer right away, confidently. But his mouth was full, so he chewed faster, gesturing to show he wasn’t ignoring her. 

She shook her head. 

“ No rush, soldier, we have all night. I assume you aren’t planning on moving on right away, anyway?” He shook his head no. “Alright. So chew your food.” 

It was such a strange balance between being condescending and being playful that he just obeyed without objection-- not something he did much of any more. 

Once he’d swallowed, he took a breath. 

“If you want to go to one of the towns, I’ll take you there.” He told her, seriously and earnestly. But she heard the hesitation at the end of the statement in his voice. 

She’d always been too quick to know everyone too well. 

“ And if not?” She challenged. 

“ If not… someone saw some HYDRA war dogs dragging something or someone in a box into the storm. I think-- that is, it might be--” He floundered again. 

“ Who do you hope it is?” She asked him softly. 

“ I don’t hope-- that would be horrible. I wouldn’t wish HYDRA on anyone. And. I don’t think I can, any more. But I’m still… I haven’t found Bucky.” He felt like he was admitting to failure, saying it. 

“ Do you know-- does anyone know if Clint--?” She asked in return, and he realized that she understood. 

“No word of him.” He told her. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded and pressed her lips together. 

“ I can’t leave The Hulk out here alone. He needs me, he counts on me. And I can’t take him into a town. Maybe when-- if Bruce ever…” She stopped and looked downwards. “Show me one of your maps before you take off.” The words were demanding, but it sounded like a compromise. 

“ If you wanted, you could come with me. The Hulk, too. I could use the help, I’m sure.” He tried to keep the hope he tried not to feel out of his voice.

“ I’ll think on it, let you know tomorrow.” She brushed her hands on her pants and rose. “You want to put your tent together, or you want to crawl in the cone with me? I don’t think The Hulk will bother you in your tent, but…” 

“ But you don’t know?” She lifted a shoulder noncommittally, and he smiled grimly. “I’ll stay with you, then, if you’ll have me. You think the bike will be okay?” 

“ Should be.” 

He fetched his blankets against the frigid air. 

It was hot in the day time. Cold at night. Both understatements. And he ran hot, usually, but that meant he lost a lot of heat easily. Plus they were higher up than he was used to. He still had dreams of the ice, sometimes. Dreams of burning up, others. And he hadn’t shared a sleeping space with anyone since-- 

_ Since Bucky. Since before you were Captain America. _

He didn’t want to panic from the cold and end up thrashing. End up hurting her. 

“ You don’t snore, do you?” She asked suddenly, and he was aware that he’d been too quiet. 

“ Don’t think so. Might uh. Might have nightmares though.” She stood, hands on hips, and stared him down. 

“ Who doesn’t, any more?” She asked.    
He didn’t have an answer for that. 

The two of them bedded down, and she swung shut the metal door, which creaked on its hinges and left them in a pile of blankets and darkness and silence. 

“I don't know how much may have changed, Steve, but if you touch me, if you try and hurt me in my sleep, The Hulk will tear your head off before you even get out of your blankets.” 

He gaped, mouth hanging open for a split second, unable to see her face, and glad she couldn't see the hurt that was written on his. 

“I wouldn't. I would never.” 

“I didn't think so. But I wanted you to know.” 

He was silent for a long minute. 

“Nat?” He asked, when the silence had gone too far. 

“Don't worry about it Rogers.” She answered, sounding a little annoyed. 

“I won't. I just wanted to say-- I'm sorry you don't feel safe. If there's anything I can do...” 

“You're doing it.” She answered, and he could almost hear the smile. “Go to sleep.” 

For the second time that day, he obeyed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out [Lena7142](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena7142)'s amazing art for this series [ on her tumblr](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/post/120495931764/post-apocalyptic-wasteland-natasha-for)!
> 
> And always, thanks for her for the inspiration and cheerleading. You're the best, Lena!


	3. Three

 

The morning brought the smell of death. 

Natasha was right; The Hulk Had brought them -- her-- presents. 

Not the big animals she had expected, but instead The Hulk had put out rabbits and lizards in a half circle, in front of the cone’s door, just a few feet away from where they slept. 

There were maybe ten of them, though some were so damaged it was impossible to tell. Their bodies spoke of violent deaths, but quick ones, for which Steve was glad. It’d taken him a while to get used to that out here. He’d been to war; killing people was just part of life, really. But animals-- he was a city boy. He had been in both times. And out in the field, he’d had the military’s supplies and then Bucky to pick off the wild life. Very quick, very clean-- and not to say he didn’t do his part, but of the Howlies, Morita and Dernier had been the best at food prep. 

Looking down at the array that The Hulk had brought for them, Steve frowned, remembering how, just a few short years ago, he wouldn’t have known what to do with them. And now-- 

He picked them up out of the dirt and looked for what Natasha used for skinning. He didn’t hear her behind him, but he felt her lifting a jack rabbit out of his hand. 

“ Here.” She said, as she walked over to a two by four as tall as she was, a single piece of wood pounded into the ground. 

The top of it, he saw, was dyed with the blood of who knew what. Past meals, he could only assume. 

She made quick work of tying the rear feet together, and draped them over the nail that protruded from the wood. 

“ You remember Louisiana?” She asked, her words soft and almost gentle, despite what her hands were doing. Or maybe because of it. 

“ From before?” He asked, glad to have the conversation to focus on instead. “Yeah. I remember.”

“ There was a town there called Baton Rouge. The capital. Named because that was how the people who lived there a long time ago marked the edge of their territory. They had a pole-- a stick, that they used like this one. And just like this one, it turned red from blood. Baton Rouge. Red Stick. That’s what I call this place. It’s not a very good joke, but it makes me smile, from time to time.” 

Her blade moved as she worked, and then he watched as she peeled the fur away. 

“ Well, Baton Rouge it is, then. I guess you probably don’t want it put on my maps, though.” He wasn’t certain he liked that; after all, the idea was to let everyone know where people were, where shelter could be found. He didn’t hold her way of living against her, but he also didn’t want Natasha surprising anyone that he knew. If she jumped out at Rhodey or Sam, say, or any of the inhabitants of Starktown… anyone scavenging for the bits of metal or other supplies that would gain them entry to the town… 

“ No, I’m telling you so you  _ can _ put it on the map. Won’t matter if it’s on there, since I won’t be around here.” She handed him the meaty part of the carcass and moved on to the next one. 

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat.

“ I didn’t mean to chase you out of your home.” He told her, words softened with guilt. 

“ You didn’t.” She turned to glare at him. “As if you could. We should move on. We’ve been here too long anyway. I don’t stay still too much; word of Big Green gets out… I don’t want the really desperate to come after him hoping for good eats. Right now, it’s dangerous to be anything that people see as less than human.” And the worst part was that she was serious. 

“ People really…? But. Hasn’t word gotten out yet? Of Starktown, of New New Mexico? I would think…” Anywhere there was hope, he would think it would spread. 

“ How many people leave, once they find somewhere with water, with food and safety? No, My guess is that everyone who’s there stays for the most part. Except for people like us. People who can’t give up hoping that something they lost is still out there.” 

Something, he noticed she said. Not someone. 

“ Clint?” He asked, sympathy in his voice. 

“ Humanity.” She returned, hardness in hers. He swallowed. 

“ Where will you go?” He asked. 

“ With you.” Was all he got in return, but he was gratified by it, just the same. Hesitantly, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. 

“ Thank you, Natasha.” 

“Hand me another rabbit.” 

\---

He made the trip back to the Maximoffs on his own, leaving Natasha and The Hulk just at the point where the land grew rocky. Or, leaving Natasha there, and The Hulk lurking a few hundred yards behind. He had paced them, never gaining, though he could. He just followed, once he seemed certain that Natasha was going of her own free will. 

From time to time she turned to check on him, to wave or just be sure that he was still there. Steve was glad of that-- glad that he wasn’t just trailing along after them unacknowledged. 

He didn’t like that Banner wouldn’t come any closer with Steve there, but he hoped leaving Natasha alone for a time would give her a chance to talk to him. Provided he was the listening type, these days.

He stopped by the pool and filled the canteens that Natasha had given him; their water supply had been nearly gone, so they’d taken only what they could carry on the bike, and The Hulk, once he had realized they were not stopping at the canyon, had disappeared for an hour before returning with it strapped to his back. 

Extra water carrying abilities meant a further distance they could travel, but Steve wanted to make sure the twins knew The Hulk was coming this time. 

“ You found them.” Wanda said without preamble, when he stopped the bike’s engine. 

“ I was hoping the two of you would go to Starktown for me and let them know. I’m going to be gone longer than I thought when I left, and if you can bring me back this, full of gasoline--” He handed over his spare tank. “You can have my provisions from the Starktown kitchens for the next week. Tell Pepper I said so, and that I may be gone as much as a month.” 

“ A  _ month _ ?” Pietro asked, as Wanda’s mouth twisted in disapproval. 

“ It’s a little over twice what I told you to expect before. And I have extra supplies with me. While you’re gone, the other two are going to come and fill their water tank. The Hulk hauls it for Natasha.” 

The twins traded a look that seemed to communicate plenty. 

“ We will go. I will run through the night tonight, so I do not lose time for the heat. We will return tomorrow before the sun is at full height… And then you can go again.” 

“ We will miss you while you are gone.” Wanda added, and Steve gave the two of them a grateful nod. 

“ I appreciate it, really.”  
They ate together that evening. Beans from a jar. And once the food was gone, Pietro hunched down and Wanda swung onto his back in a practiced motion. 

“ Tomorrow by noon.” She reminded him, clutching the gas tank and the satchel of empty jars from Steve’s journey so far to her brother’s chest. 

“ I’ll expect you.” 

Plans and time were all the accountability they had now, and the twins needed to be able to count on something. There had been too many losses in their life, and he could only give them back so much. But this was part of it-- purpose, in occasional runs and sending travelers in the right direction. 

And the ability to expect him, and to count on him to be back when he said he would-- they usually didn’t get to return the favor, but he had no doubt that they would. 

They were good kids. 

And he had faith that they wouldn’t let him down. Wouldn’t want to. 

  
  


He waited til they had been gone for a good twenty minutes, well aware they were several miles away at that point, and then he used a blanket before the fire to signal to Natasha, interrupting the light from her sight and then allowing it again several times. 

A few minutes later, she was being delivered to the fireside by The Hulk. 

For someone so large, Steve had expected him to be less skittish, somehow, but while he filled the tank of water, he looked over his shoulder every few seconds, as if expecting an attack from Steve at any moment. 

“ We talked about it.” She told Steve over the sounds of the water displacing the air. “I told him we’re going after your friend. Going into the storm. It might be smarter to go on foot. We’ll use your tent to wrap the bike, so no sand gets into it, and we’ll have him carry it, and lead. We can tie ourselves to him, and follow closely-- that way we won’t get separated.” 

“ You talked about it? Did he--?”

“ He understands. He doesn’t hate the idea. He’s with us. That’s all we need to know. I promise you, he’s absolutely loyal. And he won’t kill you in your sleep, either. I asked him not to.”

“ Oh.” Steve said faintly, glad that she sounded so certain. 

Natasha laughed, and the sound grated like she wasn’t used to doing it any more. 

“ He’s not that bad, really. He’s been like this for a while now. He’s evened out a little. He’s not… the other guy…” Her eyes went to where The Hulk stood at the edge of the pool, head partially turned towards them so that he could hear. “But he isn’t what you last saw him like. He’s… he’s actually gentle. When he can be.” 

Steve didn’t know what to say to that; it seemed contradictory, since all that he knew of The Hulk was anger, and how it defined him. 

“They’ll be back before noon tomorrow.” He told her, instead of responding directly. 

She nodded. 

“ We’ll take off before then; not out of sight but far enough away that they won’t have to feel threatened.” 

“ I’ll meet you, once I get the supplies I need. Are you sure all of this isn’t going to be too much for him?” He looked at the silhouette of the bike and then at the tank that The Hulk was just setting outside of the ring of light from the fire. 

“ He could carry all of this three times over for a week and not feel it. And if he needs a break, he’ll let me know.” There was some threat in her voice at the last, and from the edge of the darkness, The Hulk made a series of noises that sounded a bit like yawns, though Steve recognized it as mocking mimicry. 

He smiled in surprised appreciation, though the expression faded quickly. 

“ You’re right.” He told her “He’s different. I look forward to getting to know him, now.” The Hulk made some shuffling noises, and the ground shook a little as he dropped down to sit, so Steve took that to mean he didn’t feel threatened by him, now. At least not enough that he couldn’t relax.

For the best, since they were planning on traveling together. 

“ Do you want the tent or the shack?” He asked Natasha. She looked past the fire. 

“ Neither. I have my bedroll. I think I’m going to camp next to him tonight. You take the structure-- no reason to unpack if we don’t need to.” 

He considered arguing. The desert got wicked cold at night, but he supposed it was likely that The Hulk ran warm, like he did, but on a much more massive scale. 

So instead he nodded. 

“ Wake me if you have any problems.” He said, standing, and turned to climb into bed. 

The day would come sooner than he wanted no matter what, but he was glad to have something to do, somewhere to go. And the plan of using The Hulk as a storm shield was oddly comforting. It was hard to think of anything that would be able to knock him off-track. 

\--- 

  
  


The twins were punctual, as he’d known they would be, and they brought a sack of dried meat, courtesy of Pepper, along with replacement jars of beets and peas and beans-- this time dried, so that they would stretch further, provided Steve had the time and supplies to prepare them.

They also brought news that made Steve worry about losing Natasha, but he thanked them and resolved himself to deliver it before they got too far away. So she wouldn’t have as far to go, if they did change their minds. 

He bid the twins goodbye and rode off towards the green shape in the distance. They’d stayed in sight, true to their word, though he thought it would be a very difficult thing to lose sight of The Hulk, when nothing else around was anything like him in color. 

“ Everything went as planned?” She asked, rising as he reached them. 

“ Almost everything. The twins brought back news. I guess Barton showed up in New New Mexico three days ago.” He bit his lip, waiting for a response from her. But what he didn’t expect was the tender way that The Hulk touched her arm with the back of one of his large fingers. 

Clearly a comforting motion, and one they were familiar with. She didn’t even lose her balance, it was so gentle-- practice, he assumed. 

“ If-- if you want to go to him instead, I wouldn’t hold it against you. I’ll give you one of the hand out maps-- it’s only a week or so from here, at his speed.” He hated saying it, didn’t want to lose them again so soon, to be left alone. But he knew as well as anyone else that that was the way it was. You lost people in the wasteland. And He was always going to be alone, eventually. 

“ He’s safe?” She asked, and Steve nodded, heart leaping into his throat at the vulnerability in her voice. He resumed breathing at her next words, though. “Then he’s going to stay safe until I get to him. We’ve both managed this long. Let’s go find your friend.” 

“ Thank you.” He said, words coming out on an exhale. 

She looked away, obviously uncomfortable with what she was feeling. He let one side of his mouth twitch upwards. 

“ You want to drive?” He asked. 

She gave him a real, grateful smile, and motioned for him to scoot back. 

They took off, then, the mood lighter than it had been for him in months. 

  
  


Clint, Natasha, and The Hulk were fine. The only member of their little family of Avengers not yet accounted for was Thor… and they were going off together in search of Steve family; in search of Bucky. Steve felt like, maybe, there was the slightest chance that this time… 

Maybe they could save someone. Help someone. Maybe there was a reason they were all still around after all. 

He didn’t acknowledge the thought, afraid to give it any weight, in case it, too, shriveled up and blew away in the storm. 

But if he had to put a name to it, it felt a little bit like hope

.

\---

 

They found their first signs of the HYDRA dogs about a klick from the edge of the storm, half submerged in sand. 

The Hulk lifted the metal plate up, holding it so that they all could see the shape of the dents-- scrapes made in it that were clearly the result of metal on metal. 

“ They said whatever was in the box pried one of the walls off. I bet this is that. If it  _ is  _ Bucky, it makes sense-- these could be from his arm. ” Steve could hear the excitement in his voice, the glee; maybe Bucky had escaped! Though, he didn’t much like his chances out here on his own. 

“ Well whatever it is, I think now it’s going to be something to help keep the sand out of The Hulk’s eyes.” Natasha said, and The Hulk bent it easily, curving it and holding it up over his face, before curving it to the back of his head as well. 

He took it back off, though. 

“ Ropes.” He said, and Steve was nearly surprised enough to fall over. 

“ Time to wrap the bike and tie up, and he wants a rope for his new hat.” The slightly evil smirk was back on her face, eyes dancing with mean mirth at Steve’s surprise. 

And she got all of that from a single word. He was almost jealous of how well they communicated. 

“Yeah of course.” He murmured, and set to pulling out the things they needed. 

  
  


By nightfall, they were set. 

  
  


“We wait til daybreak to breach the storm.” He decided, and they both nodded their agreement. “And shifts for sleeping-- in case it moves on us.”

“First.” Natasha called, and Steve nodded. 

The Hulk lay down and stretched out, and Steve handed him a good sized chunk of dried chicken.

He took it carefully, his fingers incredibly careful, despite his size, and Steve felt bad for not having more to give him. If he was honest, that would have been enough for two very small meals for himself though. 

“ Thanks for this. Really.” Steve told him, wishing he had a better way to show his gratitude. “I wouldn’t be able to do this without you and it means a lot to me.” 

The Hulk tapped him on the head with the tip of one finger, and just that singular pat was enough to make his boots sink three more inches into the sand. He nearly choked on the half laugh that emerged.

“ Do you mind if I hunker down with you for the night? Normally I’d put up the tent, but--” He gestured at the bike.

“ Aren’t you boys cute. Better get to sleep, Steve-- you have next shift, and the stars are a’wastin’” the cheer hadn’t abandoned them, thank goodness. It would go a long way towards making this more bearable. 

Or, at least, it had made that day good. He could only guess what tomorrow and the storm would bring. 

He lay down and dreamed of Bucky, wandering around in the storm, hurt and tired, his arm jamming with sand, his lips cracking and drying out. His face sinking from hunger. He woke when Natasha kicked at his boot with her own, and spent the rest of his shift trying to reassure himself. 

It hadn’t been that long. They were right on their tail. Steve was going to find him, going to regain this last link, not only to before the burn, but before the ice, too. They’d lived through three ages together. He couldn’t lose him now. 

  
  


Didn’t know what he would do if he did. 

  
  
  


 


	4. Four

Following The Hulk through the dry hot winds felt like a test, punishment, and a bit like the world ending all over again, rolled into a single horrific experience. And still this seemed the easiest path, the thinnest place in the storm.

No doubt that was why the war dogs had taken that route, and why it was good they had found their tracks to follow in. Though how they had discovered this crossing in the first place was a mystery. The way the winds battered them, lifted them and tossed them about from time to time, was alarming and painful-- only being tied to one another, and ultimately, being tied to the Hulk, kept them from being scattered to the wind and the dust and death. But perhaps they had it easier, with their vehicles laden with captives and water and who knew what else.

It was a slow, trudging pace, and though each of the Hulk’s steps were three of Steve and Natasha’s, it still seemed like it took forever. Or maybe that was just the misery of the situation, the howling sinking into their minds like an utter inversion of silence.

None of them bothered shouting over it, and so the sound seemed to be all-encompassing. Too loud to make out either breath or heartbeat, and made up everything that the pain of sand scouring across skin wasn’t.

And still their feet fell, one after another. They continued that way through the storm until suddenly they broke free of it-- not on the other side, as Steve would have expected, though. Steve saw through the dust clouded lens of his goggles that they were in the center of it. They stood for a moment in the eye, but there was nothing there. It was flat and empty and the same color of orange-red as the rest of their world had been for so long. The walls of the storm spun all around them, but for the first time, they could breathe. Could feel the harsh burn of skin scrubbed dry and smooth and abraded from their walk. But they didn’t see anything else.

And they might have continued on past the HYDRA hideaway, might have missed it completely, if not for the disparity in step sizes between them. The Hulk managed to stride right over the entrance, but Steve and Natasha’s feet fell on the concrete, firm and not shifting the way that the sands did.

Natasha yanked on the leads that bound them to the Hulk, and he returned, head tilted inquiringly. Natasha gestured at the ground below them, and before she could raise her finger to her lips to signal for quiet, the Hulk had brought his foot down, crashing through the entrance.

Steve exchanged a look with Natasha while the Hulk pulled the rubble free of the steps, but there wasn’t much time; they had to make a choice. Natasha shrugged and took off down the steps, her guns already drawn.

Steve pulled his own out and motioned for Hulk to stay there.

“Don’t let anyone escape!” He called over the sounds of the storm, but it was hard to say if Hulk heard. But he couldn’t waste any more time trying to communicate, if not; he couldn’t leave Natasha in there by herself.

 

He shouldn’t have worried.

 

There were only five men in there, and four of them were dead. He discovered this by stepping over them-- one in the hall beyond the stairwell, two more in a small growing room, and one laying in the doorway he needed to get through to reach the room where Natasha stood with the last.

He was holding his foot, whimpering while blood seeped out from between his fingers,and Steve knew they all understood what that meant: This man was dead. He’d never make it out of the storm like this, and there was no way he could carry enough water, even if he tried.

The base was small, it seemed, though there were additional doors, and Steve kept an eye on the one leading in here, in case someone else showed up to investigate, but Natasha was doing what she’d always done best.

She was a little rusty at-- or maybe no longer cared for-- seducing words out of men, but that didn’t make her any less effective.

Her hand was tangled in the man’s hair-- red, like hers, but lighter. Shaved at the sides and tall on the top, and she had pulled him until he bowed over backwards, balanced on his one good foot.

“The box you carried through the desert.” She was saying, her voice patient and calm and almost kind. “Who was in it?”

“Not who-- what. Just a weapon. An A- a- asset!” His word turned into a howl when Natasha Took hold of his foot in her hand and dug her fingers in. 

“What is the asset?” Steve demanded, well aware that the metal marks on the inside of the piece they had found were not made by some thing. Nothing that wasn’t alive… wasn’t able to think for itself. No jogging or bumping around made marks like that.

But the man just ground his jaw, clearly trying to keep quiet.

“Where is the asset now?” Natasha asked, still unruffled.

“Base.” He said, and Steve realized that something was wrong; the man was grinning. “You’ll never make it. The tunnels are full of HYDRA agents. You’ll never reach where we’re keeping him. And even if you did-- look around you. The doors are electric.”

Steve snarled, catching the slip. Him. Not it. A person after all, no matter how they tried to dehumanize him. But he was right; he hadn’t realized, being used to seeing it in Starktown-- there was power down here. He’d thought it was cooler because they were underground, but now he was paying attention, there was actually a little bit of a breeze. The wardog was watching him, and as soon as Steve met his eye and opened his mouth to ask how, the guy grinned wider and shut his mouth, working his jaw.

“Cut off one head--” The man began, and Steve knew this trick all too well.  

“Natasha, his mouth--!”

 

But it was too late. The man began by frothing, and Natasha began forcing his jaw open, trying to pull whatever was in there out, but when she finally prised his mouth open, foam and spit was followed by blood, and then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, her hand opening as he fell.

She straightened, wiping the poison that had eaten away at the inside of his mouth and throat off on her pants.

“Tunnels, he said. We can’t bring the Hulk down here-- too small. And we can’t travel without water.”

Steve nodded his head, agreeing.

“They might have the water-- though I vote on us not trusting it for now. We don’t know who might be upstream, and whether or not they may know we’re here. Any idea how this all exists? Power, A/C… it’s like the fall never even happened to these guys.”

Natasha shook her head.

“No, but I don’t like it. I feel distinctly at a disadvantage. Can’t say I am a fan of the feeling.”

Steve agreed with her there.

“Plus I’m expected. We should go to New New Mexico. It’ll be closer. We can have them signal Starktown, get them to let the twins know what the deal is. We can restock and maybe get some kind of backup. He didn’t happen to mention how many of them left there are, did he?”

She shook her head no, then blew out an angry breath.

“Clint’s at New New Mexico, too.” She said, and Steve nodded. He hadn’t forgotten. “You want to see if he’ll join us?” She asked, and her voice and eyes, when she turned them on his face fully, were sharp.

“I want to see him.” He said gently. “And it doesn’t have to be us. If you want to stay there, if you want to go find somewhere else… You don’t have to come. And I wouldn’t try to make you, or him, or the Hulk, or anyone else. If I have to I’ll--” He looked back into the hallway and swallowed, then nodded.

“I’ve run off against HYDRA on my own before to save Bucky. I’ll do it again.”

“We still don’t even know that it’s him.” She reminded him, but she stepped forward, closer to him, and she didn’t sound so on edge anymore.

“It’s him.” He answered, certain. “Who else could it be?”

She pressed her lips together and looked away, and he took that for her agreement. And her being glad that it wasn’t Clint. That would have been where her mind was, if he weren’t accounted for. He took gentle hold of her elbow.

“Come on. Let’s look through the rooms we cleared, see if we can’t find one of their jeeps and get out of here with less trouble than we got in with.”

The first jeep didn’t make it all the way out of the garage, because the Hulk saw it coming and planted his fist down on the hood. A reasonable misunderstanding, they all agreed, and once the wreckage had been cleared away, Steve and Natasha loaded into another one and the Hulk even managed to perch on the back of it, reinforced as it had been.

That way, they followed another path out of the eye, further northward, headed out of the storm and into the waste that would lead them, according to Steve’s map, to New New Mexico within two days’ drive, once the Hulk had climbed off and taken up a lazy loping pace alongside them.

They unpacked his parcels and loaded them on the jeep instead, so that the trip might be easier on all three of them, and Steve had to admit how much more he enjoyed traveling with companions-- not just for the company and the improved conversation, but for the way that it felt… safer, somehow, out in the wastes and knowing that there were others to have your back.

 

They made good speed, breaking to camp just the once, and reached the gates of New New Mexico in reasonably short order.

The Hulk hung back, and Steve promised to see to it that food and water was brought out, which seemed to amuse the guy, more than anything else.

“He’ll be fine. Come on, Steve.”

Natasha was impatient, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. If he knew Bucky was just inside those gates, he would be, too.

But things in New New Mexico had always been strange, and had apparently only gotten stranger since he’d been gone.

A rough statue of Thor greeted them, chipped out of the stone that surrounded this area, and the moment the gates closed behind them, Steve and Natasha were both caught up by guards.

“Strangers here have to earn their keep.” A low voice explained, and Steve looked towards Natasha.

“Don’t hurt anybody too bad.” He asked grimly, but nodded just the same, and just like that the fight began. He jerked his arms free of the hold on them, and saw Natasha’s red hair as she flipped around, taking down her own handler as well as another man who was rushing them, both at once. Steve caught up his own pair of enforcers and smashed their heads together, grimacing at the sound of their ‘armor’ clashing; loose plastic didn’t do much to protect them. It took only a few seconds; she with near acrobatic grace and he with simple brute force. They stood back to back and he glared down at the guard who’d ordered them captured in the first place, one who clearly thought himself above getting involved in the ensuing skirmish.

“We are friends of Jane and Thor, and you should know me, at least. I’ve been here and back to Starktown several times since New New Mexico was founded. But if you don’t believe me, ask Jane. She’ll vouch for us.” He made his voice commanding and firm.

“We are the clan of the Stormlord and we have recently merged with the company of New New Mexico to support the Lady Jane’s attempts to reach the Aesir.”  The leader countered, sounding very sure of himself.

“She has retreated to devote herself to her mechanisms, and only sends orders through her interns for what she needs. We have taken over the day to day business of this town, and she will not be interrupted. As such, you are a stranger here-- you both are-- and you will have to enter our match and prove yourself worthy before you enter.”

Steve exchanged a look with Natasha.

“I understand that my partner has recently arrived-- Clint Barton?”

The man inclined his head.

“I mean to take you both to him.” He told them, and Natasha stood from her slightly crouched fighting pose, slowly lowering her fists.

Steve followed suit, watching her for any sign of a plan or feint, but it seemed genuine. With a sideways twitch of his head, they found themselves surrounded, though this time no one tried to touch them.

They were paraded through the street that way, and Steve spotted the worry on a few familiar faces as they moved past. He tried not to look upset, tried not to concern them further, but they seemed to know something he didn’t.

Matches, the man had said-- was he going to have to fight someone? Would they both? He knew they could take care of themselves, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.

Their march ended at a new construction, in the street below the tower where he knew that Jane made her home.

All of this was concerning, to be sure-- the strange worship around the idea of Thor that had sprung up had been disquieting before, but now it was something worse, something scary. And the fact that these people were claiming to be in charge, and no one had seen Jane for some time… yeah, once they were out of immediate peril, Steve intended to find out what was really going on.

In the meantime, if nothing else, Steve had to hand it to these new folks: they had construction well under control. They’d built half a sphere, the flat edge just above the ground, but disjoined stakes kept it closed off, for the most part. The upper section was not made for shade, but rather constructed like it was meant to be climbed, sat upon--

 

“Welcome to the Thunderdome.” A voice Steve knew but was no longer familiar with called out, and he saw Natasha stiffen as the man dropped down from the bars above their heads.

“Clint Barton.” She said, showing neither surprise or warmth.

Clint, on the other hand, was having none of that.

“Natasha! Steve!” He pulled the two of them into a hug, batting away the guards around them to reach.

Relieved, Steve embraced the man, surprised that he had managed to remain so much the same, so open, through everything.

“Where the hell have you been, Barton?” Natasha asked, and at the sound of gruffness in her voice, Steve looked her way, confused by the reaction and expecting violence to follow. What he saw instead, though was how close she looked to tears.

He averted his eyes, trying to give her privacy, even from such close quarters.

Clint, to his credit, looked at least abashed when he let them go.

“I couldn’t get the tractor to start.” He muttered, and Natasha was startled out of her emotional response to laugh, though her face afterward seemed like the sound had surprised her.

“Please don’t tell me you were trying to push it to civilization?” She asked, but she sounded like she already knew the answer, and was holding it against him.

He pointed, and sure enough, there was an old John Deere, its paint all but peeled off, though you could still tell from the occasional flake that it had been green at some point.

“Shade’s precious hard to come by. Wasn’t going to leave my only portable shade behind.”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh incredulously, and he opened his mouth to say something about an umbrella, but the leader of the clan of the Stormlord was obviously impatient.

“These two are meant to be tested. I trust you have people who can go up against them?” He asked Clint, and Natasha turned towards him, one brow raising in the most light hearted challenge Steve had seen on her face since they’d reunited.

“Nope.” Clint chirped cheerfully. “This one’s a modified human-- built for strength and speed and stamina-- and this one is an assassin trained by a group so badass, HYDRA feared them. If you put someone in the dome with these two, you may as well just write them off as dead.” He shrugged. “There really isn’t any point. I can speak for them.”

“Then the others will die. We fight as a tribute to Thor, and the people will not be denied their sport.” He spoke loudly, and around them people began banging on things, clapping, stomping feet-- just making noise.

“I know Thor. Knew him.” Steve spoke sharply, his voice cutting through the noise of the crowd, the same way it had in every war he’d fought in.

The noise tapered off and mumbling cut in.

“We were the Avengers.” He gestured at himself, Natasha, and Clint. “Thor was our friend. And he wouldn’t-- he liked a good fight, but unnecessary deaths, especially when not in battle?” Steve got an idea, and raised his voice again. “There’s no honor to it.”

“But what we propose is a way to gain glory!” Natasha spoke up, and suddenly everyone was listening.

“We have a friend, held captive by HYDRA, and we have discovered the entrance to the tunnels, which lead to their base. We defeated the team who guarded that entrance, and so it is only a matter of time before they realize. We must strike now, hunt and kill them all, before they can scatter to put themselves to seed elsewhere.” Natasha spoke in almost the way Thor had, and Steve saw the brilliance of that.

These people worshipped him, they would react to this kind of language, this sort of wording. Indeed, the leader’s eyes were shining and his face looked fiercely joyful.

“We’ve been after a way to get into HYDRA for weeks now-- we’ve had reports that they have a power source, some kind of cider-- Jane thinks it may be something like a battery. And she needs it to make contact with Asgard.” Clint spoke up.

“That is what the Thunderdome is for, to find the greatest warriors to send into the fray, to send after HYDRA.” The leader told them.

Steve couldn’t help but feel-- gratified, almost. At the very least glad of it. Because it meant that if he did get back up, they wouldn’t be completely untrained, would know what they were walking into. Good for fighting.

“I want to see Jane.” He said firmly. “I’m the mapmaker, and we have the whereabouts of HYDRA, but we aren’t going to lead a damn soul out of this town until I’ve talked to her first.”

“That isn’t possible.” The man told him. “She’s forbidden it-- she is working, and none may disturb her.”

Clint raised a hand and touched Steve’s arm lightly, heading off his argument.

“Tell Jane that an emissary from Starktown is here, to talk to her about power. She’ll make an exception. Guaranteed.”

The man looked doubtful, but turned and hurried off, no doubt the spring in his step due to having a lead, finally, and the excitement of more sources of stories about Thor.

“So who’s that?” Natasha asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

“He goes by Magnus, though his wife calls him George when other people aren’t around. Thor fanboy, in case you couldn’t tell.” Clint shrugged.

“Yeah, sort of picked that up.” Steve said wryly.

“This is nothing like the way you explained this.” Natasha said, tone light but jaw hardened in anger or discomfort or just preparation for bad news-- he couldn’t tell.

“It’s nothing like the way it was last time I was here. Like they said, they just moved in, though I do want to know why Jane put them in charge.” It made him uneasy, and it seemed irresponsible, especially for her-- she knew how much these people looked up to her, nearly worshipped her.

“It was supposed to be a power balance trade off thing. Jane is still running things, she still needs to find ways of powering all the stuff she’s making, but as long as these guys were here, and they brought a lot of people with them, well, it didn’t make sense not to have representatives of both communities in charge. She couldn’t just let things be as they were without running the risk of being overthrown, and she won’t do anything that puts her machine in danger.”

“That’s why she won’t let Stark see it, isn’t it? Why she won’t let him come and help.”

“Word is that he’s pretty much given up on rebuilding. That he made just enough to be comfortable, but he isn’t helping anyone any more. And that he might stop anyone trying to make the world better. It would take him off of his little throne.” Barton shrugged. “That’s what I hear, anyway.”

“You’ve always had as good of hearing as you do aim. You still handy with a weapon?” Natasha asked, and Steve knew what would surely come next.

“I don’t want you to feel like-- for old time’s sake or anything. You just got here and it seems like you have a place--” he tried not to sound too judgemental about his role here. “I don’t want to pull you away from your life.”

Barton snorted.

“What life?” He began, and would have gone on but that Magnus came back.

 

“Jane will see you.” He said, sounding somehow surprised and embarrassed and begrudging.

“Lead the way.” Natasha requested, cheerful and friendly, all of a sudden, so that the sound of her voice made Steve look sharply at her. But her face was unreadable beyond the mask of her placid smile.

So he sighed and followed, just hoping that she would have the good sense not to kill anyone while they were exposed, unarmed, outnumbered, and trapped within the walls of the town.


	5. Five

Jane had changed since the last time Steve had seen her.

She’d always been more inclined to her work than most things in life, but she looked like she had aged ten years in the few months they’d been apart.

Where Natasha’s cropping her hair made sense-- a tactical thing, less for someone to grab hold of, if you were ambushing people to stay alive-- Jane shearing her hair off seemed more likely to be because she no longer had the mental bandwidth to put towards upkeep. It wasn’t done with any mind toward looks-- it was varying lengths and choppy, like she’d done it herself and with scissors poorly suited for the task. Maybe she’d needed the hair for something.

And maybe it was just that it had fallen in her face while she tried to work a time too many.

The skin around her eyes was tighter and the dark circles under them darker, and she seemed-- not leaner, necessarily, but sharper. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a month, or if she did, that it wasn’t doing her any good.

Either way, the time since he had been gone had hit her hard.

“Magnus says you’ve got news about HYDRA?” She asked, her eyes pinning Steve’s the moment they came in, and he shifted uncomfortably.

Like the twins, he got the feeling that she was starving for something, and looking to him to deliver it. She needed something from him… something she hadn’t before. And it made him uneasy and slower to speak. Fortunately, Natasha picked up the slack.

“We were just inside of a bunker of theirs-- one connected by tunnels to more.”

“Yesssssss.” The word was nearly hissed out as Jane’s attention was, thankfully, torn away from Steve and turned on Natasha instead in the wake of her words. “And inside-- what was there, what did they have? Power? Electricity?”

“It was just us, we didn’t want to stick around-- they have a friend of mine, and I need to get him back, but we need people at our backs in order to make that work. I don’t want to be surprised and outmatched-- outnumbered.” Steve was trying to recover from the odd feeling he was getting about this whole chat.

“We didn’t poke at the inside too much. But there were lights, some kind of power, for sure.” As Natasha spoke, Jane’s eyes slid closed, and some of the pinched look went out of her face.

“Thank goodness.” Jane breathed, the words barely audible, even for Steve’s hearing. She slumped in place, and Steve took a step forward, ready to catch her if she fell. She looked close to it.

“You need that, don’t you?” Barton spoke up suddenly. “For the machine-- you need to power it somehow. And Steve and Nat, they need a crew. I’ve been working with Magnus to recruit all of the best fighters since the day I showed up. We’re ready, we’ve been getting ready, just for this. Now we have someone who knows the way, someone more than capable of leading. Let me take our men, let us go in. Let’s get Steve’s friend out, and we’ll find their powersource and nab it while we’re at it, and wipe the HYDRA dogs out all at the same time.”

Magnus looked gleeful again, pleased by the prospect, and Jane was nodding.

“Once you have the power source and bring it back here, I should be able to create an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, and from there we’ll be able to contact Asgard. Thor can bring the rain… and then…”

Steve understood, now, the scope of what Jane was working on. The literal weight of the world was on her shoulders, and it was little wonder that she was showing signs of the strain.

He stepped forward and took her hands in his.

“We’re going to help you.” He promised, even though he wasn’t certain that they could. He didn’t know their chances, and he’d learned not to hope. He just tried to give hope to others. And if he knew her at all, she was basically running on it, at this point.

Would Thor come? Why hadn’t he already? And even if he did-- some lightning and thunder, sure, but could he manage that kind of storm? The moisture had to come from somewhere, right?

He could see that Natasha was doubtful, too, but she was wise enough not to lay voice to her own concerns.

“My men will help to outfit those that Barton picked out for us.” Magnus said, voice brimming with confidence. Steve wasn’t at all keen on the idea of bringing him along, and he looked to Natasha, hoping to communicate as much without having to say so. But she looked calculating.

“What do you have in the way of weapons and armor?” She asked, and with a sharp look at Clint, and a quick twitch of her head, she explained enough for Clint to realize she wanted him to flank Magnus and help her steer him out and away.

They retreated to go inspect New New Mexico’s armory, and Steve was left with an exhausted looking Jane, who was just staring at him, again.

“I guess you’d better teach me how to recognize the power source, how to transport it without damaging it, and all that.”

Slowly, alarmingly, Jane’s lips twisted upwards.

“I don’t know.” She told him, almost as if she were amused by that. “It’s nothing I know about-- their power source, it’s not… it isn’t wind power or electric… I have no idea what you may find. And I have very little I can send with you.” Her brow furrowed and she gestured that he should follow her.

They moved deeper into the hold, and towards the center, where the walls of the place got higher up. There was a final door on a rounded wall, and she led him into the round room at the center of the city.

Inside was, without a doubt, the subject of all of her work. The machine was easily eight feet across, and at least as tall as he was. He stopped short in the doorway. Jane was watching him, nervously hovering between he and the machine.

“Don’t touch it. It’s almost done.” She instructed, and though her words might have been kind once, now they were harsh; protective.

She watching him warily until he nodded his agreement, and then she turned away, though even as she gathered supplies, she kept looking over her shoulder.

“I’m sending you with some wire cutters and some insulated gloves. I don’t know what the power source is, like I said, but they’re fire retardant and they’ll keep you from getting shocked if it’s like electricity.”

“How do you know what it isn’t, if you don’t know what it is?” Steve had the presence of mind to ask, though he got the feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.

“We caught one of the red dogs. He called it power cider. That could mean gasoline, could mean something else-- I don’t know. All I know is that the compass he had on him didn’t point north. It pointed right into the heart of the storm. And it didn’t have anything inside of it. Some smoke left when I opened it up, and then it was just an empty case and a needle. Now, of course, it doesn’t work.”

Steve frowned.

“What happened to the man?”

Jane shrugged, obviously no longer interested in this line of conversation.

“The dog you mean? I gave him to Magnus. I think he was the main attraction in the Thunderdome that day.”

Steve bit his tongue before he could say something about how even the dogs were people. These days, no one really wanted to hear it. And he knew there were those who thought that kind of view on the world made him weak. He couldn’t be, not now that she’d agreed to send men and weapons and tool and ammo and armor…

“I’m gonna do my best to bring you what you need.” He told her seriously, once more.

“I believe you.”

“But what will you do if Thor can’t fix this? Will you--” his throat stuck. “Will you go back to Asgard with him?”

“Why not?” She asked. “Darcy is the one who really runs things here-- she’s taking care of food for the whole town right now. I don’t know how and I don’t really care. Everyone eats, everyone drinks, people live and work and she oversees it. I am doing everything I can with this machine. And if that fails… then I do. And this town has no room for useless people. That’s what Magnus and his tribe taught us. And it’s not like Darcy would be alone. She’d have him.”

Steve scowled.

“You know, Hitler did a big purge of useless people too. The Untermensch, the undesireables. He got rid of them. Does it really strike you as a good idea to put someone like that in charge? Again?”

Jane shrugged one shoulder.

“Guess I better not fail, then.” She said almost lightly, but the look on her face was so defeated, he knew it was a lie.

“I guess not.” He found himself echoing. She held out a burlap sack towards him, with the tools she could spare safely inside.

Steve hesitated, trying to think of some appropriate goodbye to offer her, but he couldn’t find it. In the end he just turned and left her there, the doors to the machine room closing behind him with a final sounding thud.

He hurried back they way they’d come, hoping he could find Natasha and Clint without too much trouble. He needed to let them know what he’d learned. And to warn them about this Magnus guy.

 

\---

 

Ultimately they didn’t get much choice. Steve and Natasha and Clint headed outside of the gates a good hour before everyone else so that Nat could convince The Hulk to follow along but keep his distance.

She’d had a talk with the people they were taking with them about him already, but Steve knew she didn’t trust them any further than she could reach to snap their necks if they betrayed her, so he wasn’t surprised to see Clint helping with keeping an eye out once they got moving.

They drove at the front of the party, the rest fanning out behind them at whatever speeds the drivers deemed appropriate. They could hear the hoots and laughter of the fighters, but in their own vehicle, it was quiet.

Just for kicks, Clint had started playing with the dial on the radio, but there was nothing to be heard, so off it went, after a bit. And then there was just the sound of dirt kicked up under their wheels, the motors and the voices behind them.

They had gas to make it. Jane’s people had seen to that, though Steve knew that if there was bad blood between she and Stark, that resource would dry up real quick. Especially if Tony ever actually managed to get his solar powered electric car systems up and running.

They pushed on until well after nightfall, and made camp on the edge of the storm, a mile and a half north of the crossing point. Steve didn’t want anyone to get the good idea to go ahead and tip HYDRA off, and he didn’t want to risk some stray dog wandering topside and seeing them.

He, Clint, and Nat took turns sleeping so that one of them was on watch all through the night. There were people on watch from the New New Mexico delegation, too, but since there was no trust between them…

Steve did find it utterly unfair, though, that Magnus managed to sleep through the night, unconcerned and comfortable with his position of power in the safety of this rag tag group of people that, for all they knew, they were leading to their deaths.

Steve spent his watch speaking quietly with those still awake, learning their names and their stories.

Rose, whose daughter had died when the world ended, but whose son was back in town with her uncle. Beinir who had come to New New Mexico with Magnus, but remembered back when he’d been Stan, when he’d had a girlfriend and been a pacifist. He was so young, probably only twenty, if that. Carl, who had been a marine, Honer, Caefiss, Paula, Audhild and Jorunn and Trevor… the names went on, their stories went on, until Steve knew them, however briefly. Until he knew that any who died would be remembered. At least the serum had made his mind sharper, quick to memorize and slow to forget. Any that he lost, he would carry with him.

As the rest of their company rose, the burden of all of these people around him had begun to feel suffocating. And he’d only met perhaps a third of their number.

The sky lit, orange and brown and pale before the sun had quite cleared the horizon, while they struck their camp and finished the trip to the thin place in the sands. The trip was shorter and easier thanks to the vehicles they rode, but not less harrowing, being unable to tell what waited on the other side. And none of the cars were exactly enclosed, so they were all feeling the sands scraping at their skin, rubbing them raw.

The clearing was there, but it was obvious that Steve and Natasha’s efforts had not gone unnoticed. It was crawling with red dogs and before they had even cleared the blanketing dust of the storm, there was already shots being fired and flame being launched at their crew. But the rest gathered quickly, and Magnus led them forward-- bodies smashing together and flames beginning to fly over the heads of both sides and into the crushing darkness of the sands beyond. The Dogs had their own vehicles, and as Steve gathered the weapons he’d been given and slid his shield onto his arm, he could see the way the cars began chasing one another in and out of view through the storm.

 

Steve caught Natasha and Clint’s eyes.

“Straight through and as far as we can go-- I’m looking for Bucky, you keep an eye out for the energy source.” He knew the clan of the Stormborn would disagree with his priorities, but he had no intention of going back without getting what he came for.

Even though he knew, logically, that he had no idea if he was even still here, if he was still alive. He’d waited this long, the world had been dead this long. He had to be able to hang on, just a few more minutes. And Steve had to force himself to believe that that was the answer, that this was the end of his search.

“You got it Steve. Careful in there!” Natasha said, and then she leaned on the horn in a series of honks that were clearly some sort of signal, because a few moments later, a giant mass of green burst through the swirling sands around them and began laying waste.

Steve slid out of the car and immediately felt someone crash into his shield. He spared only a second to be certain that the face was covered in red paint and wasn’t one of those he had spoken to the night before, and then he was fighting back, the thin edge of the shield catching the man in the throat and dropping him, leaving just enough time for Steve to raise his gun and take out another charging in his direction.

He cut a straight line from the car to the door of the bunker, only looking back to be sure that he was covered, but Clint and Natasha knew their business and had turned their backs to one another and were following him, keeping all three of them safe in the process.

He was so glad to have found his team again. It made life so much easier.

Able to focus on advancing fully, it was only another few minutes before he had made his way inside, over the bodies of the HYDRA guard dogs who had tried to keep him out.

It was like walking through the thin neck of a funnel, as he stepped into the stream of bodies trying to join the fight. He raised his shield and shot beneath it, hardly caring enough to aim, and dropping the dogs with shots to their legs. He heard Natasha behind, finishing them off, or making kills of her own-- he didn't know which.

Few actually stopped moving long enough to bother with him, most too fixed on the idea of glorious fight that lay in wait outside-- and judging by the screams and the Hulk’s roars, he didn’t think they would be disappointed. Not that he cared much if they were.

He looked back to be sure Nat and Clint were still with him and twitched his head, warning them before he stepped aside through the doorway and into the room they’d found before, with the bunks in it. Those had already been evacuated, and there was room enough that when the other two joined him, they could watch as the stream of dogs ran by, slowing and eventually stopping.

There were a lot of them, but hopefully The Hulk and the vehicles would help to even out their numbers. Steve swallowed against the concern that rose at the thought of how many dead they would need to take back to New New Mexico, in pursuit of Bucky.

And the power source that Jane needed, of course.

  
  


Once the coast was clear, Steve led the way out and into the tunnel that led deeper into the bunker, and followed it back. The door at the end was hanging wide open, and he had no idea how many more people might be inside, who might have survived and what sort of weapons they may have kept or built…

He put himself squarely in the middle of the tunnel, shield ahead of him and friends behind. He saw natasha stopping to examine one of the wall mounted tunnel lights, but she rejoined them soon enough and said nothing-- which was for the best, he thought; no need to alert their enemies too early.

They cleared rooms as they went, Clint and his bow and arrows the perfect means of silencing left behind HYDRA members as they got deeper in, quietly and without a fuss.

Steve was glad not to come upon any children. He didn’t know what Natasha or Clint would have wanted to do about HYDRA juveniles, and he didn’t want to find out. He didn’t want to have that kind of knowledge of what the fall of the world had turned his friends into. But he also knew he wouldn’t have let that sort of thing happen.

It felt as though they had been walking for hours in the darkness, in their carefully maintained silence, when they reached a door, like all of the others, but this time shut hard, and marked with a green line. there was a hole in the wall beside the door, and through that hole was a bundle of wires, all of which vanished into other holes, tucked into the walls… the odd thing, though, was that where they disappeared into the locked room, they were moving.

Natasha saw it as well, and he could see her distrust of this situation on her face.

“I’m going to shoot the lock on the door.” She told him, and though her tone was hushed, they’d been so quiet for so long and his adrenaline was roaring through him enough that it felt as though she had screamed it.

“Alright.” he agreed, his voice equally low and equally loud. Clint was watching them, watching everything around them.

“Point.” He said, but that was all he needed to say. He turned his back to them and lifted his bow, another arrow already nocked and ready to fire at the first person to come running towards the noise they were about to make.

It meant that they’d have someone ready to yell if they needed to pay attention behind them, and that was all Steve could ask for.

He turned back, nodded at Natasha and stepped aside.

The gunshot sounded and he pushed open the door.

Inside there was just the figure in a cage only wide enough to stand in, wires sprawling over the walls and ceiling and attached to the man.

Because that was what it was.

  
A man, with some kind of blindfold on over a muzzle, his dark hair dirty and scraggly and long and everywhere around his bowed head. He stood as though he’d once been dangerous, his weight balanced like he meant to fight, but every line of him looked tired.

Steve took a step forward, and from the other side of the room, a shot rang out, bullet ricocheting off of his shield.

Natasha shot down the woman who had taken the shot, then two more men, before she shouted at another.

“Take him off the wires-- detach him.” She gestured at the guy in the cage, and with a shudder, Steve’s brain caught up.

This was him, this was the power source-- They were powering their lights and their machines… off of Bucky.

  
Somehow.


	6. Six

“ No, you do not-- ‘e’s dang’rous. You should not release him, not let him go. ‘E won’t hesitate to kill everyone, if we don’t drain him.”

_ Drain him? _ Steve wondered, and he eyed the wires again, this time even more queasy feeling. Were they somehow using Bucky’s  _ blood _ ?

“ Let him down.” Natasha demanded again. 

“ No!” The man returned, and Steve noticed he looked more than a little concerned. Then again, if Natasha had a gun on him, he would feel much the same, he was sure. 

“Cap!” He heard Barton call out, and he twisted, just in time to see a man drop at the doorway, arrow poking out of his eye socket. 

Behind him, a gun reported, and when he looked back, the man arguing with Natasha was dead.

“Just the one?” She called out to Barton, and he waited a minute before calling back.

“ ...Yeah.”

Steve shook his head but put his gun away. 

“ I’m going to get him out of there, you mind my ten, alright?” 

“ You got it Cap.” Natasha said, from her new stance, bent at the waist and rifling through the dead guy’s pockets. 

“ Steve, keys.” She tossed it to him and he caught them, the sound of it loud. Only then did he realize that Bucky hadn’t reacted to any of it. 

He got the cage open in a hurry, afraid that his friend might have been deafened at some point, but he could live with that, right? Barton did alright for himself-- he stepped up and into the cage to get the rest of the restraints off.

Only, when he took hold of the blindfold, he flinched, and Steve could feel his brow knotting. That wasn’t right, Bucky didn’t move like--

“ Bucky?” He said softly, and the man didn’t respond.

He pulled the fabric away and got a look at the eyes before they clenched shut against the light-- the wrong color. Bloodshot and sick looking, but not Bucky’s. Nothing even close to his specific shade of blue, though it was hard to tell  _ what  _ color they were in the dim light of the room. He frowned. 

Turning his head to the side, he saw that the locks that bound his wrists to the bars of the cage were heavy chain wrapped over burlap, or a similar material. To keep, he assumed, from breaking the skin. Two arms made of skin-- no silver in sight. He’d been distracted, and he’d assumed-- he had wanted  _ so badly _ for it to be him... 

“ What is it?” Natasha called to him, and he realized he’d stopped moving. 

The man’s eyes opened and focused on him, brows clenching for a moment before recognition and understanding seemed to dawn, and then he stared, wide eyed, and began to shake. 

“ It’s not Bucky.” He said, but reached up just the same. 

 

Whoever he was, he knew Steve, or Captain America, and was  _ afraid _ . They’d fought their way down here to save this guy-- and he was still the power source. Whoever he--

The mask came away, and the man’s mouth came into view, lips and chin and neck covered in dry blood, the smell of it sweet and decaying, and he winced as the piece that had pressed down on his tongue, between his teeth, came free with a sick gasping sound. It was pumping something into him, Steve realized. Air or drugs, or...

Steve dropped the respirator muzzle to the floor and took a step back, bouncing off of the bars. 

Loki stood there, grimacing, his face angled down like his head was too heavy to hold up, but his eyes carefully trained on Steve. He looked out of it, weaving in place and clearly in pain each time he moved to rest too much weight on either of his arms. He was gaunt, more obviously so in the face, and despite the heat he was clearly wearing layer upon layer of clothes… and even with the extra on, he was only average sized. Underneath all of that-- Steve could only imagine. 

And the tubing came from the back of his neck, and from his arms, his wrists, came up from his chest… If it weren’t for the chains and the tubes, Steve didn’t even think the guy would be upright at all. 

"Who is it?" Natasha asked, stepping closer. 

"Don't shoot!" Steve put himself between she and Loki, though he wasn't quite sure why. Like HYDRA, he’d figured one of the silver linings to all the deaths that the end of the world had caused was the loss of people like this-- people like him. But still, he wasn’t about to let Natasha or Clint kill him, not like this. Not after he’d been chained up and bled out and was shivering and afraid, bloody and looking at Steve, like-- 

like he didn’t want anything from him. 

Like he was daring him to make a choice, or doing his best to. He looked drugged half out of his mind, and Steve had to wonder what the hell HYDRA had him hopped up on. 

Natasha’s voice was low and dangerous now. 

“ Steve. Who. Is. It?” She was stalking closer, and from a noise behind him, he could hear Clint advancing from the opposite direction. 

“ Take Barton out of here, come on. No one needs to see this.”

“ See  _ what _ ?” She snapped, and he was reminded of how she’d grown up; was she feeling protective, or was this her instinct to fight coming into play?

At least if he just told her, Clint couldn’t read his lips. 

“ It’s Loki, Nat. Not Bucky. And he’s not in good shape.” 

He saw the way her lips curled back, baring her teeth in something terrifying that looked like a grin.

“ You should let Clint kill him. It’s better than he deserves. And it’s what Clint deserves, after what he did to him.”

Steve shook his head. 

“ We’re not that kind of people, Natasha. A lot’s changed, but I have to believe  _ that _ didn’t. And besides-- look. Look at the tubes, the wires-- He’s what we’re supposed to be bringing back. He’s the power source.” 

Steve was deeply uncomfortable saying it. 

“ So you’d rather see him drained, treated like a battery, rather than see him dead?” Her words were a challenge, and Steve winced. 

“ I don’t know.” He said. “If it’s him or the whole world…” 

“ So you want to bring him with us? Is that what you’re saying?” 

“ No one told me we were having a group meeti--” Clint’s words dried up as he reached them, his steps silent enough that they didn’t hear until he was right up to them, and he stared up at Loki, eyes wide. 

He didn’t look at either of them, just raised his bow. 

“ Step aside, Cap. He’s mine.” 

“ Clint.” Natasha broke in, his name rough and dark on her lips. He glared at her in answer but didn’t lower his weapon. “Look at where he is-- he’s powering this place. This is what Jane needs to power the portal. To put in her call to Asgard, and get Thor to bring the ra--” 

Whatever else she may have said beyond that was drowned out by the feral sounding snarl that Loki let out, and the sound of his chains striking the metal of the cage from his thrashing. He looked like he was having a seizure, thrashing as much as he could in his position.

All around them, the lights dimmed and then flared and Steve barely raised his shield in time to deflect the arrow that would no doubt have ended the tantrum Loki was throwing. 

“ _ Stop it.” _ He growled, and he saw the way that the ferocity of his words made Natasha step forward, made her put a hand on Clint’s arm, forcing his bow down. He was scowling and unsettled looking, and Steve couldn’t blame him. Not when, behind him, Loki was shaking like he was being shoved around in the storms that surrounded the bunker entrance. 

“ Nat?” He said, her name becoming a command, and she glared at him, but pulled Clint away just the same, dragging him out towards the door. 

“ Figure it out, Rogers.” She shot back at him over her shoulder, and he took a deep breath. 

Loki stilled as they walked away, but he was glaring much harder now, looking so much more alert, but definitely not more sane than before.

He bared his teeth at Steve in a silent snarl, and he could see that they were covered in fresh blood-- he’d hurt himself. 

“ Loki?” He asked warily, and the man in the cage pulled his lips together, pressing them shut until they went white around the edges. He narrowed his eyes, but otherwise didn’t respond. 

“ Can you still--” Steve had a horrific realization, and he couldn’t help but take a step towards him, trying to see through the dimming lights.   
Loki hadn’t said a word since Steve had taken the muzzle out of his mouth. 

And he was so covered in blood…

“ Speak?” Loki asked, his voice rough and thin. Steve could see his lips cracking as they shaped the words, and he swallowed. Loki sounded angry-- dangerous. “Sit? Stay? Yes. No. It seems I’ve little other option.” Even though his words were arch, cool and mocking, he looked utterly wild, eyes darting around him as though he expected to be attacked just for opening his mouth.

Which, considering that was sort of what had happened a minute ago, Steve couldn’t exactly blame him for. 

“ How long have you been here?” Steve asked, wondering if he’d really been the man in the box, or if there was still some chance it had been Bucky. The marks of metal on metal had given him so much hope…

“ They have not given me a means of measure.” Loki told him, words clipped and curt. 

“ I-- yeah, ok. Sorry.” He felt defensive, and he marveled at that. The other guy was bloody, chained, looked like a stiff wind would knock him over, if his arms weren’t holding him up… and yet…

Maybe it was just guilt. That he hadn’t let him down yet, that he was afraid to, afraid that Loki would do exactly what the HYDRA doctor had said he would-- that he’d attack, maybe even kill, Steve’s friends. 

“ I want to let you out. Let you free… but I need you to promise not to fight us. Come with us nice and easy, we’ll take you somewhere you can get cleaned up, get some food in you--”

“ Use me to power your  _ salvation _ via Asgard? You have no idea-- they are hardly the saviors you think.” His voice had climbed in pitch and was shrill now, and Steve felt his brows knotting. 

“ Why do you hate them so much? Or is that fear?” Steve was full of bluster, talking bigger than he felt, but he had to hide the uncertainty that Loki was successfully planting. After all, what did they really know about Asgard, other than what they knew of Thor? 

“ I will not be a slave to you, or anyone, the way I have been here. I am not a  _ thing _ for your use. And that goes doubly so for Asgard. I will not-- cannot--” He bit down on his lip and Steve watched as his strength failed him, and he had to let his head droop, his weight hanging from his arms. 

For a moment, Steve thought he might have fainted. 

“ Leave me be.” Loki said, and it was so gruff that Steve almost missed how it was a plea. 

“ I can’t just--”

“ If you have any mercy in you at all, tell them you have killed me. With any luck, I will be dead soon enough. And if you truly wish to be good-- you should have let your Hawk do as he wished. Or perhaps you would rather save the honor for yourself?”

Steve found himself nearly tripping as he stepped backwards, horrified at the suggestion.

“ I’m not--”

“ Then _ go _ .” Loki spoke over him, and though he could not be loud he managed to make himself heard, his words sharp and brutal, nearly hissed. “Even if you could take me, I would fight you. I would hurt or kill whomever I had to to escape. I can promise you that. You would never be able to relax, nor would any you handed me over to. And every death that I caused would weigh on your conscience, knowing that it was you who made the choice, the wrong choice. So do it. Go now. If you do not watch me die, perhaps you will be better able to sleep with your choice.” 

Steve found himself turning away; obeying, without having consciously decided to. He made it a few steps around the cage and turned back to look, unable to pull his eyes away from the way that Loki’s back was shuddering. He was silent, but still obviously breaking down. 

If he left him here, he would die. 

Steve knew that. Loki did, too. It wouldn’t be quick and easy-- this was a slow way out. But it looked like he’d been on that road for a while now. And he wanted that-- would take it, as a better option than being… what he had been to HYDRA. Rather than risk going back to Asgard. 

 

And that scared him. 

  
  


He pulled out his blade and cut the wires off where they reached the wall, plunging them into near darkness; there seemed to be some kind of reserve, some backup, and Steve shuddered to think of how much of whatever they were draining from Loki they had managed to get out already. 

He turned back and fired a shot into the room, hitting one of the bodies that was already down. Nat knew the difference between a bullet hitting metal and one hitting flesh. He hurried out to the door, pulling it closed in place behind himself, and used the shield to break off the handle, effectively locking it shut, before he lost the nerve. 

He was glad that Captain America couldn’t exist any more. He couldn’t have done this if he had to do it behind the mask, under the shield. 

“ Cap?” Clint asked, and Steve flinched. 

“ We’re leaving.”

“ What about--”

“ I said,” he growled, “ _ We’re leaving. _ ”

Something in his voice made them hesitate, and they didn’t question him any further.

  
  


He and Natasha and Clint led the survivors back into the bunker and looted it for all it was worth; all they could carry. They loaded up their own vehicles, as well as those left there by HYDRA, and while there was nothing said about Loki, they did manage to find a couple of the back ups, by following the cords. 

And they took it all, stripping the wires (which Steve was relieved, somehow, to see were solid and copper, and not full of blood or some other liquid) from the walls, pulling up the flooring in places where it was made of wood and not just packed dirt. They took everything. 

All of the additional weight, though, made them slow, and after a day’s worth of fighting, no one was at their best. They made camp at the halfway point, just before night fall. 

Nat and Clint were on the first watch, and he waited until their shift had ended to sneak off to the dark lump on the sand that he knew was the Hulk. 

The thought of Loki wouldn’t leave him alone, and he hated it. Hated his own lack of compassion, and how willing he was to let Loki fall just because he was scared and the guy was evil. 

Had been evil. 

Things changed when the world fell; he knew that. And it was hard to see him as the bad guy when he was the one in a cage, being drained by HYDRA.

Plus, with his fear of Asgard, Steve realized that in all the time they’d been fighting him, no one had ever asked Loki what he was running from. 

And he’d really thought they’d been better than that, once. 

“ Hey big guy.” He muttered, the way he’d seen Natasha do. “I have a favor to ask. And you can say no, alright?” 

The wide green eyes picked up the light from the now far-off fires that were keeping everyone warm in the frigid cold of the desert night. The Hulk tilted his head, but made no sound. 

“I need to go back to that HYDRA base. I left something-- someone--” He had to choose his words carefully. He needed not to alienate the Hulk, but he also couldn’t risk surprising him, and getting Loki out only to see him smashed to pieces. 

“ They had Loki tied up, and they were sucking him dry, using him like a battery. I… Clint and Natasha wanted to kill him.” 

The Hulk snorted, and Steve nodded. 

“ I know, I don’t blame you, but. If you had seen him, the things he’s had done to him… he needs our help. And maybe if we help him, he’ll be willing to help Jane. To power her machine. To help us call Thor, and get Asgard to help, to get some rain… or at least tell us why he’s so afraid of them. It’s good to know, right? If calling the gods is a mistake?” 

The Hulk looked uncertain, but finally he groaned and stood. 

“ Thanks, buddy. Really-- I. I really appreciate it.” Steve said, words warm. 

The Hulk lowered his hand, clearly expecting Steve to climb on, and he chose to trust him the way he’d just trusted Steve.

He stepped up, and then, when the Hulk lifted him higher, perched on his shoulder. 

He rode that way back to the edge of the storm, then the Hulk tucked him into the crook of his arm so he wouldn’t get pulled away, and they plunged into the whirling sands for the third time that day-- though this time it was so much worse, this time it was dark, and where the heat and abrasion had been bad, the cold made the sand sting all the worse, made skin and lips feel like they were splitting. 

And he was afraid they would be lost in it. It was easy to imagine never finding your way out, when you couldn’t see more than a dozen feet in front of your face, but they found the clear spot eventually. 

Steve was disoriented for a moment before he realized they had entered on a different side than expected. They’d circled it somehow, but at least they had found their way back. 

“ Will you wait here for me? I don’t think there’s any danger--”

The Hulk interrupted him to laugh, and Steve had to grin and shake his head. 

“ Alright, yes, Loki, probably. But… just promise me you’ll give him a chance. If we can get him back to New New Mexico alive…” Steve shrugged. “Plus he’s hurt. I don’t even know if he will be able to stand, let alone walk.” 

The Hulk nodded. 

“ I’ll be quick.” Steve promised. 

The halls of the bunker were twice as awful now; after the bodies had had some time to rot in the heat, and the process of stripping it out had made the floors and walls uneven. 

The batteries had run out of power at some point, and everything was in utter darkness.

But at least Erskine had given him a superb memory. He remembered all of the twists and turns, and eventually reached the door with no knob. 

This was a problem, and he’d known it would be. So he retreated down the hall and took out the shield, buckling it on his arm before running full speed at the door. 

The Vibranium sent the shock of impact rippling back through, but even that wasn’t enough to move it-- much. But it did move. So Steve did it again. And again. 

The fifth time, the door opened, and Steve was gratified to hear Loki, or at least his breaths.

He was panting, hyperventilating, no doubt terrified. 

Which meant he wasn’t expecting to be saved. It hadn’t been a trick, he wasn’t waiting for anyone to show up. 

“ Who’s there?” He demanded, but his voice wasn’t strong enough. “Show yourself, coward!”

Steve snorted. 

  
  


“ Yeah, alright. I am a coward. But that’s why I’m here. Leaving you like that-- that was a coward’s way out. And I’m sorry.”

He slid the shield out of the way on his back. 

“ I thought about it. A lot. We got halfway back to town, and I still had to come back.”

“Under cover of darkness, and without your friends. Even in reversing your cowardice, Captain, you have been a coward.” 

His voice was smoother now, his words coming easier to him, and Steve wondered if he had spoken to himself aloud in the time he’d been alone, or if maybe it was that his mouth was less sore, having been free of the bit this long. 

“ Look, just come with me back to town. Let me get people to feed you, to patch you up. I promise-- the only people who know that you’re the power source are me, Clint and Natasha.” And the Hulk, he thought, but he wasn’t going to say anything any time soon. “I’ll talk to them. No one has to know-- if you’ll just explain to me why you’re so against our appealing to Asgard. Think about it. I’m offering you your life for a story. And the promise that you won’t harm anyone not trying to harm you.”

He could have asked for him just not to fight, but Steve wasn’t under any illusions. Loki didn’t cause the big end of the world, but enough people had grudges against him from before then. The chances were that he’d be in a fight sooner than later, and Steve’d prefer that he not be put in the position of breaking a promise or letting himself get beat up.

“ How do I know I can trust you?” Loki asked. “How do I know you won’t simply take me there and then renege on your word?” 

Steve hesitated. 

“ I could say I’m one of the good guys, but I know you saw what the good guys have turned into. What could I do or say or give you that would convince you?” He spoke slowly, trying to think it out. 

Loki hummed. 

“ Perhaps… it is what I can give you. There was a man I met-- You called me Bucky, did you not? That was his name. A man with a silver arm. Once we are at the town, once I have been seen to… this Bucky, he is important to you? Then I will give you news of him. But only once I am released, once I have recovered and been allowed to remain free.” 

“ Bucky? You saw him?” 

“ I did.” Loki responded smoothly, and Steve saw the way he flexed his wrists. 

“ Where-- was he okay?” Steve asked, nearly desperate for anything, but Loki was grinning. 

“ I will tell you all I know of him… just as soon as you have held up your end of the bargain. Now release me.” 

Steve sucked in air, weighing the options. 

Loki was holding an awful lot of cards; Bucky and power and knowledge about Asgard, and all Steve had to offer was water, food, medical supplies-- nothing to scoff at, he knew, but also nothing exclusive to him, the way Loki’s knowledge only had one possible source. 

“ I want to detach you from those tubes and wires before we leave, too.” He told him. 

“ Yes, I would like that very much. But if you free my hands, I can help you with that.” 

Steve was tense, but he nodded.

“ We’re going to have to trust one another, here. I’m going to get your hands loose, but please don’t make me regret it.” 

Loki actually scoffed. 

“ The quickest way to motivate me to betray you is to remind me that I can. I’d advise against it.” 

Steve ducked his head. 

“ Fair enough. Hang on-- this may take me a minute; I can’t see anything.” 

 

A green light flared to life beside either of Loki’s bound hands, and Steve whistled between his teeth. 

“ Handy.” he remarked, and edged closer to the left hand, pulling out Jane’s cutters and employing them on something a little thicker than the wires that she had no doubt expected him to cut with them. Fortunately, he had the strength to make it work, and once one link was broken, the rest of the chain slid free easily. 

As soon as it was free, Loki let that arm drop to his side, and Steve winced in sympathy as he saw the color of those fingers, pale digits covered in filth, like Loki had tried to claw his way through someone. Honestly, Steve didn’t put it past him. But it was obvious from the way his arm hung limp and still that even the motion of lowering it pained him. 

The light sputtered out on that side of him, and Steve moved to the other side, beginning to leverage his strength against one of the chain’s links there, too. 

Once that was done, Loki sank down, his knees giving out below him. Steve was close enough to catch him, to ease the fall, but that meant he was also close enough that when Loki cried out softly, he could see the cause.

The wires were stuck into his flesh, and strung through the cage’s bars as they were, they were pulling on him. 

“ I’m going to cut them shorter-- we should have the doctors at New New Mexico take them out for you. I don’t want anything to get infected. And we still have to get through the storm tonight.”

He was glad he’d brought the Hulk; he’d been right about Loki not being able to walk. 

“ If you’re going to do something, do it already.” Loki snapped. “It’s me who is supposed to be silver tongued, but it is you who talks entirely too much.”

“ Yeah alright. Hang on.” Steve could write it off-- the guy was obviously hurting, and he had been for a while. He took the cutters to the wires, and made sure to leave at least an inch exposed above Loki’s skin, so they would have something to get hold of when they got around to pulling them out. 

He cut down the wires in his hands, in his chest, the ones in his thighs, but when he got to the bunch poking out of Loki’s skull, it was obvious that any small touch on them was hurting him. 

So Steve went as quickly as he could.

And by the time he was completely free, Loki had passed out.

  
  


Steve carried him out to the Hulk, and he worried the entire time about how easy it was. The guy was taller than him. Should be heavier than this, surely? Unless Gods were like birds. Hollow bones, or something. But Loki was thin. Bony. He was so light and Steve’s stomach churned at the thought of what lay under all those clothes. But at least they would help keep Loki safer through the storm. 

He handed him off to The Hulk, and watched as he was tucked in the crook of one arm. Steve climbed up into the Other. And then The Hulk surprised him by crossing his arms, laying his hands over them both, protecting their skins from the ravages of the storm. 

“ Are you sure you can find your way back out?” Steve asked.

The Hulk grunted in the affirmative-- he hoped-- and Steve settled back to trust him. 

There was a lot of that going around tonight.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet, but he really hoped he didn’t regret it come morning. 

 


	7. Seven

When they got back to the camp, it was still dark out. 

The Hulk carried them right up to the edge of where people were, let Steve down, then carefully laid Loki out on the ground. 

His body managed to look bulkier, laying like this on the sand, covered in layers of clothing and the loose fabric weighted with deep pockets of dust. Steve wanted to move him, to get some of the dirt off, especially given the way it was sticking visibly to the spots that were damp with Loki’s blood.

And he felt terrible, knowing it was him who had made him bleed, even though he was helping, even though he was only doing what he could to save the guy. 

Around them, people were stirring, drifting in closer, curious-- they hadn’t seen The Hulk this close, and they wanted to know who he was carrying around-- and why. Wanted to know where Steve had gone and who he was bringing with him. Wanted to see the monster. He just had to hope they didn’t realize there was more than one for the gawking at.

For a minute, Steve considered asking The Hulk to just carry Loki all the way back to the town, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t do anyone any favors-- not Loki, who might panic waking to find himself cradled by something big and green and which had once bashed him into the ground. Not The Hulk, who would fall under suspicion when it was revealed who his passenger had been. And most of all-- Natasha and Clint were already going to want Steve’s hide for this. Keeping it a secret for longer would  _ not _ make things better. 

Besides, he could just imagine Loki rasping at The Hulk the way he’d done at Steve before, and angering him too much… if The Hulk took his fist to Loki now, Steve had a feeling that Loki wouldn’t recover the way he had before. 

He’d never seen anyone look so frail. Not anyone alive. 

He’d seen some sand-preserved bones, once, skin stretched over them and turned thin and brown, cured by the heat and dryness… That desert mummy had more in common with Loki now than a living person did, and that thought was horrible in and of itself. 

It was enough to prompt Steve to stand. 

“ Hulk? Make sure no one touches him til I get back.” The Hulk grunted and dipped his head in agreement, glaring balefully at those around them. 

“ Come on people, clear out.” Steve urged, and almost as one, they turned towards him, even began to follow as he strode through the small crowd. 

“Who is it?” 

“Where did he come from?” 

The press of people behind him made the hair on the back of his neck stand up; where once he might have felt safe turning his back to the people who followed him, he’d learned. Over and over again, the hard way… 

He turned to face them and stood still until they stopped, a horse shoe shape huddled in front of him. 

“I found him prisoner in the Hydra bunker. He’s sick. Stay away from him.” 

They murmured among themselves, but that was as much as he was planning on saying. He took off, this time running away, well aware that they couldn’t keep up with him. 

He dug into his bag and pulled out one of the small jars of drinking water

“Steve?” Natasha’s voice was sharp. 

He grimaced, but turned to face her just the same.

“ You were gone, and there’re whispers you and Hulk brought someone back. Please tell me--”

“ It’s Loki, yeah. I couldn’t-- he begged me to leave him there, to let him die a slow death, rather than go to Jane with us. And I… I did it. I left him behind. But then…” 

“ You and your damned  _ mercy _ .” She sounded bitter but not wholly surprised. He didn’t think he  _ could  _ surprise her, honestly.

“ Do you think you can just keep Barton away from him? Just long enough for me to get him back to New New Mexico, get him checked out by the doctors? I doubt he can stand, much less--” Steve’s words were drowned out by shouts, and his head jerked up in time to see Loki, or something roughly the shape and size of Loki, stumbling into the desert, away from the crowd. Tendrils of power were arcing off of him, which explained why he hadn’t been subdued, but they were following, albeit at a bit of a distance. 

“ You were saying?” Natasha asked, and then she gestured. “Maybe you should let him go. He wants to die? Let him. Better yet, let Clint do it. That way they’d both be happy.” She was glaring at him, and Steve ground his teeth together. 

“ You know I can’t do that. Loki’s my responsibility now. If he dies-- if anyone hurts him-- then that’s on my conscience. Besides, what if he can fix things? What if Jane’s right?”

She scoffed. 

“So instead of letting him die, you’re just gonna take him exactly where he doesn’t want to go? No wonder he’s doing a runner. Well, you better go get him before someone decides to try and shoot him down. I’ll go try and make sure it’s not Clint, but…” She shrugged, not sounding like she intended to try very hard. 

“ Thanks, Tasha. Knew I could count on you.” It was snapped out, sarcastic and mean. He knew he’d need to apologize later; that was out of line, he knew, but for now...

He ran, again outdistancing every other human in mere seconds. He caught up to Loki not long after that, though he was amazed he had made it this far. Up close, he could see the way he was moving-- it was disjointed, unhealthy, looking almost like he was some sort of weird puppet, whose strings Steve couldn’t see. It looked almost like gravity didn’t pull on him the same.

 

“ Stay away!” If anything, Loki’s voice was more wrecked than it had been before. The words were more whisper than shout, and there was something about him-- he almost looked like he was vibrating. He looked  _ sick _ . 

“ Loki, come on, I thought-- I thought we had an agreement? Look at you! You’re bleeding, you’re barely standing, you’re--”

Loki let out an anguished sound and fell to his knees, while another arch of green power flew out of him-- striking the ground just a few feet away from Steve. The earth where it hit was darkened and ash white in the middle, scorched beyond what even the sun could do. 

“Hey!” Steve found himself shouting as he leapt backwards. Loki raised his hand toward him, and Steve flinched, expecting to get hit directly this time, but all that came were more of Loki’s croaked words. 

“ Get away from me-- I don’t want to hurt you.” He dropped his arm until he was on all fours, staring downwards, and he looked like he was trying to get a hold of himself.

Steve felt his brow furrowing and he took a step closer, not even thinking. He still had a jar of water in his hand, and he’d intended to give it to Loki. Figured he needed it. But this was something he couldn’t help with, by the looks of it. Something scary and dangerous and well outside of his experience, either as Steve or Captain America.

“I can’t control it, Captain.” 

Loki’s words were so quiet, rasped and dry, that Steve barely heard them over his own pulse pumping in his head. 

“ I haven’t-- it’s been too long. I can’t...” He sounded tired, small, humiliated… Steve felt his stomach drop.

“ You mean that’s just-- it’s just leaking out of you now?” 

Loki stayed where he was on the ground, hands fisted in the sand. He didn’t seem to have any more words to say, and it wasn’t until he turned his head to look up at Steve that he even noticed the jar. 

“ Here, I mean, it may not help with your magic, but… you need water.” Steve twisted the lid off so that Loki wouldn’t have to fight against it. He remembered how light he was, how thin, and it seemed amazing he’d even made it this far away from camp. 

He expected Loki to hesitate out of pride, but that wasn’t the case; he took the jar with an urgency born of desperation and swallowed large mouthfuls, one after another, gulping at it greedily. 

“ Hey, woah, slow down.”Steve reached out to try and tilt the jar a little less extremely.

Loki bared his teeth in a feral looking snarl and hunched around the jar, daring Steve wordlessly to try and take it. He held his hands up.

“ It’s yours, no one’s taking it away from you, but… if you don’t slow down, you’re going to puke it up. And no one wants that. Probably you least of all. I’m sure your throat hurts enough as it is.”

Loki glared balefully up at him, silent, until Steve sat down beside him with a huff. 

“ Look, I don’t know what it is you’re expecting, but I really am not-- I’m not trying to make things any harder for you.” 

“ No. You want to be friends. So I will want to help.” Loki sounded brittle still, the water not seeming to have helped his voice. Steve wondered if that was another victim of the world burning-- if Loki’s voice was just gone for good, like so many other things.

He didn’t say anything about it, though. 

“ I want to get someone to take these wires out of you. I want you to tell us why you think we shouldn’t contact Asgard. And I want to figure out a way for you to live, with the way things are. Now your magic-- it hasn’t acted up any more since I got here. You feel like you’re a little more in control of it? Do you know what set it off, before?” 

Loki stared down into the jar of water, nodded, and raised it to his lips again. 

“ I tried to use it to flee.” 

Steve pursed his lips, well aware that meant he’d had no intention of honoring the bargain they’d made. That he meant to disappear without telling him where Bucky was, or anything about how he was. 

“ Why not use it to heal yourself?” He asked instead of addressing that. 

“ I meant to. Once I was far enough. It ended poorly.” 

It was Steve’s turn to look down. 

“ Maybe… hold off doing that, until you know you won’t accidentally explode. At the very least, I can take you to New New Mexico, get you treated, taken care of properly.” 

“ Will they, you think, if I am without my seidhr? If I am useless for the purpose they intend for me?” 

Steve wished he could say yes, instantly and without delay, but… he remembered the way Jane had looked, the way she’d talked. He thought about the Thunderdome-- if they insisted on putting Loki into one of those fights, he’d never make it out. 

Loki watched him, and he could tell he’d seen Steve’s hesitance. He looked away. 

“ Give me the rest of this. Leave me here-- I will… It will be better than if you took me back.”

Steve shook his head.

“ No, there are-- there are other options. Why are you so set on dying?” 

Loki stared hard at him. 

“Why are you so set on saving me?” 

Loki didn’t have an answer that would satisfy Steve. Likewise, Steve knew that anything he could say, Loki would have an argument for. 

“ Because I think enough people have died, don’t you?” He’d meant it to be kind, but Loki set his jaw and turned his face away, so that Steve couldn’t even try to guess what he was thinking. 

It sent a shock of concern through his system.

“ Loki? Look I know you ran away, you were-- I know that a deal doesn’t mean much to you, but I  _ need _ that, alright? No more deaths. No more killing.” 

“ And if I cannot help it, Captain?” He asked, and his voice was quieter now, if that was possible. 

“ If it’s an accident you mean? Like your magic?” Loki shrugged, though it looked like the motion hurt him. “I’m going to ask you not to use it. maybe it’s just-- they were draining it out of you through these wires, right? So maybe, once we get the loose ends out of you--” 

Loki shuddered. “If they do not kill me in the process. If I can survive the ride back to the doctors. You wish me to give up my only defense.”

“ Not much of a defense right now, is it? Listen, I’m going to keep you safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you out here, or in there-- they won’t have the chance. Not until you’re back on your feet and able to take care of yourself. Then… then you can go where you want or do what you want. As long as you aren’t hurting anyone, I’m gonna do my best to keep anyone from hurting you. Alright?” 

“ All of this to learn news of your Bucky, Captain? He must be so  _ special _ .” The word was snide, and Steve felt himself wanting to rise to Loki’s bait. He pushed that down.

“I care about him, yeah. And I care about… about not letting humanity fall just because civilization has. I want us to not be murderous pillaging…” His mind went to the Hydra base they had just laid waste to, and he could see when Loki’s mouth twitched, clearly following his thoughts. 

He didn’t comment though, and Steve got the distinct impression that with as much as his words cost him, he just thought it wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t holding his tongue out of kindness. 

“ I just don’t like seeing people getting hurt. Alright?” 

“ So don’t take me to your town. Only hurt will come of me there.” 

He wasn’t sure whether Loki was making a threat or a prediction, but either way, Steve didn’t like it. 

“ I sure as hell can’t leave you out here like this. So if not New New Mexico… then what? You want to go to Starktown?” The moment he said it, he warmed to the idea. “The doctors are even better there, and no one’s trying to reach Thor. You wouldn’t have to worry about them just using the wires that are already there--” And that was something they had to worry about, he realized, the reality sinking in gradually. 

Loki was a ticking bomb, and right now he couldn’t even direct his energies. But with some metal wire, anyone else could. He was a serious asset, and Steve’s discomfort with Jane in New New Mexico meant that he couldn’t really trust her not to take advantage of it. Besides, Natasha was right. He wasn’t being merciful if he was just herding the guy towards a fate he seemed convinced would be literally worse than death. 

“ Starktown?” Loki asked, and his voice broke on the word. He took another drink of water, a smaller sip this time. It didn’t make him look any less worried. 

“ Tony-- Iron Man, you remember him. He has a town-- he’s basically engineered a way of sustaining life out here. You probably won’t seem him, though. No one does. He mostly just stays holed up in his… look that doesn’t matter. New New Mexico is scraped together and it’s closer, but Starktown is cleaner, and… and maybe safer, for you. I think it’s probably the better bet. So here’s my thought-- I’ll go back to the encampment, I’ll talk to Natasha, and we’ll take one of the recovered Hydra vehicles, and you and me will head south to Starktown. Jane can’t complain, because she still gets more than what she had. If-- that is, if you think you can hold out a couple more days before we get those things out of you.” 

 

Loki considered, then nodded. 

  
  


“ Alright. Stay here. I’ll come back with a car-- you won’t even have to talk to anyone else, alright? Got your water?” He felt like he had more energy now that he had a pretty solid plan in place. 

Loki held it up-- down to a quarter of the jar, but that would be alright. Steve didn’t plan on being gone that long. 

“ Ok, I'll be back really soon. Please don’t try to run anymore, ok?”

“I’ll be here, Captain.” Loki said, sounding impatient as best he was able at hardly more than a whisper. Steve tossed him a small, reassuring smile, then stood and headed back to camp.

  
  


\---

  
  


“ So you’re just-- what? Sending me off to Jane’s town? You expect the Hulk and I to just be able to move in now? Think we will just be able to become… farmers and neighbors?” 

Steve frowned and paused in his shifting of supplies from the truck to the jeep he was taking.

“ I thought that finding Clint for you was like… it’s like what finding Bucky would be like for me. And Clint doesn’t want anything to do with Loki, we both know that. If you wanted to come to Starktown, you’re more than welcome, but...”

He saw her take a deep breath, saw her pull back, and only then did he realize that her emotions bubbled much closer to the surface than he remembered.

“ No you’re right. And I want to see this through and make sure he’s good, but… maybe we’ll join you, sometime down the road. I don’t want to stay in New New Mexico for too long-- Hulk wouldn’t come in, even if I trusted them not to try and kill him.”

“ The folks out here don’t seem too troubled by him.” Steve pointed out. 

“ The folks out here don’t have him surrounded and don’t have to worry about him destroying homes or gardens. Trust me, he and I-- we’re better off drifting a bit. I guess I’ll have to talk to Clint, see if he wants to settle. Least I know where to find him if I want to visit.”

“ And if you leave word with him, I’ll come find you and do the same.” Steve said, laying a careful hand on her arm, not entirely certain it would be welcomed. 

“ Yeah, you aren’t getting rid of us that easy. Maybe I’ll even bring your bike back for you when I come down that way.” She returned the gesture, clasping him with her opposite hand. 

She loaded three extra jars of water into the jeep for him from her own supply, and took her headscarf off to wind around all of those in the box, so they wouldn’t bounce off of one another and shatter.

“ You take care of yourself, Rogers.” She said, and this time it was a vote of confidence. 

“ I should say goodbye to Hulk and Clint, too, before I head out.” He made it into a question, since she knew them best. 

“ Clint already took off for town. He left as soon as he heard you had brought Loki back. Hulk though-- yeah. You should.”

“ You take care of yourself, too, okay?” He asked. “Not that I need to say as much; you’re better at that than anyone I know.”

“ Still nice to hear it, every now and then.” The look she gave him was at once bashful and full of respect, and then she pulled him into a hug. 

“ Don’t stay a stranger. It’s been too good having you around again.” 

“ Yeah. You too.” He felt a little choked up, and her eyes looked a bit bright, so they both went back to securing the supplies he was taking with him. 

“ Alright. I’m just gonna-- I’m gonna go see the Hulk, then, and then I'm out of here.” 

She nodded and let him go, and he tried not to feel like he was losing a little of the family he had just regained. 

Hulk was laying not far from where Steve had left him, covered in dirt and looking like he was grabbing a nap. 

Steve couldn’t blame him; he wished he could do the same. There hadn’t been much sleep for either of them the night before. 

 

“ Hey big guy.” He spoke calmly, trying to figure out how to say goodbye without upsetting the other guy.

“ Hrm?” Hulk asked, one eye opening. He didn’t look angry, though-- just a little groggy.

“ I came to say goodbye. I’m taking Loki down south. He’s pretty hurt and he needs people to help him… and I don’t want anyone else getting hurt in the meantime.” He wanted to make it simple for him. “You and Natasha are going back to New New Mexico for just a little bit. Gotta drop all of this off, and figure out what Clint’s doing. But I’m going to see you again real soon, okay?” He asked, wondering when he’d become the most talkative person he knew. 

“ Steeve.” His name came out like a groan, and he blinked, surprised, right before the Hulk patted him on the head again with one of his huge fingers. 

“ Yeah, I promise, this isn’t a forever goodbye. It’s been great having you around. Really.” He put as much earnestness as he could into those words. 

The Hulk smiled, with teeth, and it would have been scary if he didn’t look so much like an exhausted, oversized green toddler at the moment. 

Steve grabbed at his hand and patted it awkwardly. 

“ Go back to sleep buddy. And thanks again for all of your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

The Hulk made a pleased sounding huff and closed his eyes, settling back down into the sand. 

 

Steve hopped in the jeep and took it out to meet Loki, who needed help climbing in, though neither of them said a word about that. 

“ Get some rest, if you can.” Steve told him over the hum of the engine. “I’m going to try to get us about halfway to a water source I know of by nightfall, and then we’ll pitch a camp.”

His supplies were a bit on the scant side, though, having expected they wouldn’t be gone from the town long, and while he quietly mourned the loss of his motorcycle, at least he had his shield. Which, he knew, was more than Loki could say. 

But he hoped they wouldn’t need any of that. They weren’t that far out of the Twins’ territory, and from there it would only be a day or so to Starktown.    
He stole another glance at his silent passenger out the corner of his eye, and hoped that he could hang on that long. 

 


	8. Eight

Loki was obviously exhausted. He kept nodding off only to wake again, jerking sharply upright. Steve nearly made a joke about Loki not trusting his driving, except that he realized it was a little too close to the truth; Loki didn’t feel like he could trust him.

He had no real reason to believe he could trust anyone. Which Steve couldn’t really blame him for.

Besides, so many days in the company of others left Steve’s throat feeling dry, his jaw sore. He wasn’t used to talking that much, not any more than Loki was, really, though he’d been without the gags and the screaming and the torture, so he couldn’t even joke about having that in common.

  


In the end, he decided just not to comment on it. He let the rumble of the engine and the tires over the terrain fill his ears, and he almost zoned out, the same way he usually did on his bike.

  


His body was designed well enough; he could all but put himself on autopilot, and as long as there were no raiding parties, he could be fine.

  


But he knew it was a bad idea to do that now. It seemed likely that, at some point, Jane or _someone_ would come after them. Especially since Loki had called his power ‘seidhr’. Jane had said energy cider. He thought they must be the same thing.

  


And as if to prove to him there were more reasons to keep his wits sharp, this time when Loki faded and then jolted awake again, another blast of power arced out of him, going right through where the windshield used to be in this jeep, and into the hood, and, he could only assume, the engine.

  


The humming cut off sharply, and their momentum only carried them forward another few feet before Steve hit the breaks.

  


By the time he had thrown the car into park, Loki had shoved himself into the corner where his seat met the metal of the door, and he was facing Steve with wide, fearful eyes.

  


“I did not mean--”

  


“I know. I’m gonna have a look at it, but you need to stop trying to fight yourself. Get some sleep, you obviously need it. And… if we end up having to walk the rest of the way, you’re really gonna need it.”

  


Loki’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips, though it clearly pained him to do so.

  


“I will rest.” He conceded. “If you cannot repair it, however… we may do as HYDRA has, in the past-- the wires are still in place…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands and the rough edges of metal that poked out through his skin.

  


It took Steve a minute to understand, and he was already climbing out of the car when the words made sense, so he almost fell the rest of the way out.

“We’re not wiring you to the engine.” He ground out, staring and disgusted at the idea of it.

  


Loki just shrugged.

  


“I don’t see why not. My power is striking out. You can fix that by draining me. You want me to sleep-- the loss of energies should guarantee it. And I cannot walk, now. Not far. Not the sort of distance you are talking about. I would rather be a battery than suffer you carrying me through the wasteland on your back.”

  


Steve gritted his teeth.

  


“I’m going to check the engine.” He said, pulling his gloves out of one of the pouches around his waist.

The metal was hot, and he wanted it open as soon as possible, so that he could hide behind it, while he tried to figure out to do with Loki’s pragmaticism.

He seemed calm enough, talking like this, but he was so tense, so afraid of being hurt further-- Steve could hardly imagine what those spikes of power might do, outside of Loki’s control, if he even tried.

  


Under the hood, he could see a white starburst design in the metal where Loki’s magic had come through it, but he didn’t see any visible damage to the engine or the battery. Frowning, he reached in, intending to check the fluids, but the moment he touched the cap, a shock of energy sent him sprawling backwards, the hood slamming shut as he hit the ground.

  


“Captain?” Loki’s rusty squawk sounded funny, and Steve laughed, though the sound came out slow and disjointed. It didn’t sound like him, to his own ears.

  


“-- ridiculous--” He wasn’t catching what Loki was saying, but he could see him struggling on his way out of the jeep. He sat up, then tried to stand, intending to help him, but lost his balance and sat back down, hard.

This was also hilarious to him, and he laughed again.

  


“Stop it, Rogers, that isn’t funny.” Loki sounded cross.

Loki finally reached him, stepping gingerly in what almost looked like a dance, which Steve laughed at even harder. He stood staring down at him for a moment, then held out his hand.

  


“You gonna help me up?” Steve asked, laughing dying off a little but threatening to come back at any moment. “Pretty sure I’ll pull you down on top of me if you try.”

  


Loki scoffed.

“Just give me your hand.”

  


Steve shrugged, the motion feeling inexplicably good, and reached up to do as Loki asked.

  


Even before their palms touched, he felt the hair on his arms raising, and as they got close, he could see a spark jump from his skin to Loki’s, and then their hands were clasped, and the buzzy energy that he hadn’t realized he housed skittered back into Loki, and drained all of the humor out of the situation with it.

  


Steve took his hand back and took a deep breath.

“Wow.” he said shortly, his mind churning through dozens of half formed thoughts-- _felt like being drunk-- so that’s seidhr-- is that how Loki feels all the time?--_ and, uncharitably, _No wonder he’s crazy--_

  


“As I said, Captain. We would do better to let your car run on my power than allow it to strike out like that.” He looked at Steve, watched him stand. “It would be safer for you that way.” Loki put his other hand out and pressed it into the sand, and Steve watched as the dirt darkened and smoked, under his touch. He was pouring the excess power into the earth, Steve understood. And when he was done, there was a small crater.

  


Looking down at Loki, at the way he curled inwards and shrunk as much as his frame would allow, Steve realized that his odd walk before had been because he had no shoes on-- the sand was hot. It had to be burning him where he stood, in fact. And yet--

Steve had _laughed_. Loki had been in pain, trying to help him, and Steve had laughed. He felt ashamed.

“Let’s get you back in the car.” He said softly. “I’ll take another look under the hood. I imagine now it’s grounded, I won’t have anymore problems with it.”

  


“This time.” Loki muttered as he turned away.

Steve had to stop himself from just scooping the man up, remembering what he’d said before about being carried. He winced, though, as it became clear with every step how much it was paining him-- and as he lifted his feet, Steve could see how raw the bottoms were. Not just from hot sand; he was pretty sure that was blood, mixed in there, too.

  


Damn.

  


He watched Loki settle himself back on the seat, looking more alert now, more determined to stay that way, like he was perching, rather than actually relaxing, ready to run for it at any time.

  


Steve sighed.

  


“Alright, here-- you have some water--” He went around and pulled out the jar he’d already drunk half of, passing it to Loki. “and I’ll let you know what the deal is as soon as I work it out. Just do me a favor and don’t try to do anything else with your magic powers for a bit, okay?”

  


Loki took the jar and nodded.

  


“That much, I can agree to.” He spoke quietly, and Steve didn’t mind. He wasn’t exactly feeling super talkative either, after that.

After laughing at Loki’s pain, and being full of his power… he’d chosen to take this path, and to take it with Loki. It wasn’t Loki’s fault that Steve had no idea what to do with him.

At least, not entirely.

  


Steve did as he’d originally intended and checked the fluid levels. The engine oil was low and dark, which was no more than was expected-- everyone seemed to run on sludge these days. If they could get the jeep to Starktown, they could get some oil, but that was a big if. And he had a feeling that wasn’t something Loki’s magic electricity was going to be able to help with.

  


Still, at least there was _some_ oil, which was better than it might have been. Oil was damned hard to come by in the middle of nowhere.

He closed the hood, then, on a whim, returned to look at the crater Loki had made.

At the bottom of it, the sand had turned smooth, hard and sleek-- turned into glass in the shape of Loki’s hand.

He dug in and lifted it out, surprised that sands as orange as these could turn so green-- colored by the magic, he supposed.

  


He startled when the engine turned over, slamming the hood down in time to see Loki leaning back upright in his seat.

He smiled, the expression put on sheerly to show that he was not upset by the brief stop, or by Loki getting it running again.

  


“Guess it was just overwhelmed by the power, too, huh?” He asked, trying to stay positive. Loki leaned against the car door, though, watching him warily and not saying a word. He circled back to the back to deposit the magic glass there, as well as to secure the other jars, now that the one Loki had would be missing. He didn’t want any of them to shatter, after all.

  


Steve took his seat at the wheel and his eye fell on the jar in Loki’s hand, barely touched.

“You can have all of that, you know-- you don’t have to just sip. I know that Hydra might have been less than forthcoming, but… we’re ok, waterwise. We’ll be able to refill tomorrow, and there are still six more of those, full, in the back.”

Loki looked at him as if he was speaking another language.

  


“You are careless in your care, Captain. Do you suppose those resources are unlimited? That the pools will continue refilling? But from what? You would do well to cherish what you have while it lasts. When was the last time you saw rain? You and those you support are squeezing the last drops from an already suffering world.”

  


Despite the heat that had been part of him for as long as he could remember now, Steve shivered and felt gooseflesh rising on the back of his neck.

  


“That’s bigger than anything I can do, right now, bigger than anything I can fix. But we can drive, we can get you somewhere where you can get patched up. Get those wires out of you. Get you some shoes.”

  


Loki scoffed, but went back to not saying anything, and let his eyes slip closed while he took a long, healthy swallow of the water.

Steve let him have his silence and got them back on their way.

  


He did not say anything until it had become dark, and Loki began to shake in the cold of the desert night.  

  


“I’m gonna drive just a little longer. There should be a rocky outcropping ahead, good for pitching camp.”

  


“Can you not drive through the night?” Loki asked, sounding as if he meant to mock Steve.

  


“I could, but we might get lost. Or jumped by the sand folk. Or I could mess up the jeep or us, if I threw us in a ditch or something. We only have one headlight, after all.”

  


Loki twisted his lips but did not argue, which Steve was grateful for.

  
Ahead, he could pick out the black of the rocks against the lighter black of the sky.

  


“Almost there.” He murmured. Loki only curled tighter into himself.

  


When they reached their intended camp site, he parked the jeep parallel to the rocks on the far side of their approach.

There was a little issue, of course, in that they had no tent with them, only a few blankets, and nothing to soften the ground they would lay on. But, he rationalized, he was used to that… and Loki would probably be happy just to be able to lay down, let alone safely.

  


“We don’t have much in the way of bedding, but I sleep warm, and you’re shaking. If we share the blankets--”

  


“Take them.” Loki said shortly. “I intend to stay in the jeep.”

  


“Wha-- The jeep doesn’t mean you’ll be warmer, it just gets you off the ground.”

  


“Do you think a night without blankets will kill me, Captain? How many do you suppose I have spent in worse conditions than this?” He laughed, and it was a horrible sound, sad and mean and harsh.

  


“Yeah, but you don’t have to. I want-- this is easy, alright? I’m not going to hurt you--”

  


That awful grating laugh came again, quieter now, but Steve still stopped speaking.

  


“ _You_ hurt _me_ , Captain? No.” He lifted his hands, staring down at the wire nubs sticking out of his skin. “But if these touch you in the night? If I don’t wake fully, and remember something another has done? You won’t hurt me, I can be sure of that. But I need you to survive this night if I am to ever have a hope of being my own… of being less reliant.”

  


“So you think you’re going to hurt me? And that’s why-- here, hang on.”

  


He went back to the back of the jeep, pulling aside the crate holding their jars of water, gratified to find the stack of scraps-- oil rags. He’d seen the red dogs use them for setting on fire and plunging into their rivals’ cars.

  


He ripped them into strips and returned to Loki, holding them up for him to see.

  


“Let me bind them.” He said, and waited while Loki stared. Wordlessly, Loki raised his wrists, pressed together, and looked away, though his expression was unhappy-- and he looked like he might be ill. His shoulders slumped inwards, and Steve’s stomach dropped.

  


He shook his head, more than a little horrified.

“No, that’s not what I meant-- I want to wrap your wires, wrap around where they come out. Not tie you up. Just-- it’ll keep you from hurting me, and it’ll help keep them cleaner until we can get there.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, again just staring at Steve for a moment, then dropped one hand.

  


Steve took hold of the other, carefully, gently, and slowly started wrapping it, trying hard to make sure everything would stay covered and not be too tight. Loki watched him, staring, and it was disarming from so close. He didn’t think the guy ever blinked the whole time he worked, but one he was done, Loki looked like some kind of teddy bear… or a leper.

  


“There-- now you’re covered up. Pull your sleeves back down, and we can get some sleep.”

  


“And if I attack you in the night, Captain?” Loki’s voice was dry, cold, and Steve wasn’t sure if that was a threat or a concern on Loki’s part.

  


“Are you planning on attacking me?” He asked. Loki shook his head no. “Then I imagine I’m stronger than you are, in your present condition. And I’ll be able to hold my own at least until you snap out of it. Try and relax, okay? You’re away from Hydra, we’re taking you to get medical care. And from there we’ll figure out what you want to do with your life. It’s all going to be okay.”

  


“Will it?” Loki asked quietly, but at least he seemed done with fighting not to sleep.

  


The sand was still warm under them from the sun that had beat down on it for most of the day, but it would grow cold in the night. Steve lay the thinnest of the blankets down to keep the sand off of their skin as much as possible and to create a layer between their bodies and the imminent chill.

  


He convinced Loki to lay himself out on the blanket and then lowered himself on it with him, ignoring-- or pretending not to notice, at least-- the way Loki stiffened at how close he was.

  


He didn’t like making him uncomfortable and didn’t want him to feel threatened, but he didn’t want him to die in the night, either, and with as thin as he was and as cold as it got… Steve couldn’t risk it. Not when he had information about Bucky, and also because he didn’t want to be responsible for any more deaths. Not ones that he could stop. Not when Loki already had been punished by Hydra beyond anything that could be considered humane.

  


With the blankets over them and tucked under their bodies, Steve turned himself to lay alongside Loki as best he was able, without directly touching any part of him.

  


The nights never lasted long enough, when Steve was outdoors.

  


Not that he was fond of the cold, but the days of scorching heat reminded him of what it was to miss softer temperatures. And the light of the sun meant that the sooner they got moving, hopefully, the less time they would have to spend driving with the sun directly overhead.

  


For Loki’s sake, though, he held himself still and waited.

  


He doubted the man had had much sleep recently, and of that, he couldn’t imagine it had been comfortable or deep enough to do him much good.

And Hydra had always loved the trick of denying their prisoners food and sleep, peace, comfort-- denying them as much as possible, actually.

So Steve let him catch up on lost rest and pulled his map from his belt.

  


If they left within the next hour, they would make the pool by dinner time, just as the temperatures were beginning to lower. It would probably be a good idea for them to drink at least a jar each of water, provided Loki’s stomach could manage it. And Steve knew he should break out something for them to eat-- it’d been awhile for him, and he was sure the same was true of Loki, but he didn’t know what it would be safe to offer him. The sort of food Steve usually carried around was heavy, hearty fare-- not great for people who had been starved.

And Asgardian biology-- who was to say?

  


Loki startled awake and rolled away with a soft cry, scrabbling to land on his hands and knees, teeth bared at Steve and eyes wild for a long minute before he shook himself and glanced away.

  


he knelt, then, knees popping audibly as he dusted his hands off.

  


“Good morning.” Steve said, choosing to ignore… whatever that was. Loki was clearly embarrassed by it.

  


“Mm.” Loki responded, but of course, he’d just awakened. What did Steve really expect?

  


“So I was thinking we should get going, but I wanted to talk to you first-- how is your stomach feeling? You think you could eat something?”

  


Loki’s head jerked to face him at that, the hunger visible and almost frightening with its intensity on his face.

  


“You’ve food you would offer me?” He asked, and Steve’s brows raised.

  


“It’s all heavy travel fare. I don’t want to do more damage trying to feed you than if you just… didn’t.” He knew it sounded lame, but he didn’t want to torture Loki one way or another. The choice had to be his.

  


Loki made his dry whuffing sound that would once have been laughter.

“I’ve not eaten any food in several months. Anything I have will hurt at this rate-- but denying me it is more unkind, if you have something. Anything. Please--”

Loki’s mouth shut with an audible snap, and again, he turned his face from Steve.

  


“Alright. I have some stew. But… I want you to go slow, okay? Can you promise me that, at least? Go slow, and stop when you feel full. You can always have more later, but the cramps if you don’t take it easy won’t make you happy.”

  


“As I said, anything will hurt.” Loki shrugged, though he winced at even just the motion.

  


“Tell you what-- you should also have something to drink. You get in the jeep, I’ll get you a jar of water, and you can nurse that while I heat up the stew.” Steve knew that he wasn’t subtle, but it seemed to him that if he let Loki drink his fill first, he would be full faster-- and there would be less chunks to worry about, if it all came back up.

  


The promise of water and food seemed to be enough to keep Loki from arguing, at least, and he cooperated very nicely.

  


It was odd to be traveling with people as much as Steve had been, of late, and still to be speaking so little. True, his speech had more than doubled in that time, but he could remember a time, back when green existed, when any time spent among others was a time filled with words, debates and jokes and arguments and laughter… even their enemies had been keen to talk.

But it seemed their words had dried up, just like everything else in their world.

  


They ate, Steve cleaned, and then they moved on.

  


The sand fell away under their wheels, Loki did not nod off, and the occasional arc of magic he managed to-- catch, really, was the only way Steve could think to explain it. Loki was tense, constantly alert, so that when it leaked, he could pull it back into himself. It seemed to keep damage from happening… but those gestures made it more obvious how wrapped up Loki was. They did not remove the fabric that Steve had out over his wires. It made no sense to.

But then again, it probably didn’t help matters, when Loki and Steve stopped near the pool, and Wanda sat up like a wild animal sniffing a predator.

  


As the hum of the engine cut out, Steve heard her voice saying a single word, accusation and challenge rolled into it:

“ _Magic_.”

 


End file.
